


Given the Opportunity

by misqueue



Category: Glee
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mild Kink, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Polyamory, Rimming, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Timeline What Timeline, unprotected oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misqueue/pseuds/misqueue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon Divergent AU. Two years after Will and Emma's wedding that wasn't, Kurt and Blaine return to Lima in February to celebrate another High School friend's wedding. Sam catches up with them there, and it becomes clear that Sam, after a string of heartbreaks and dashed hopes for a reunion with Mercedes, could use the help of his friends. Or, bros help bros hook up at weddings where there are too damn many ex girlfriends. A kinda sorta thematic remix of 4x14 "I Do". Written for the Tumblr hiatus polyfest of yore. (Canon divergent past 4x14)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a remix of "I Do" set a few years later, riffing on the ‘everybody hooks up at weddings’ and "bros helping bros", and Sam is in a Quinn-in-4x14 sort of place with regard to having too many exes and failed romances. Also, Sam is not entirely straight.
> 
> Thank you: Jakia for early support and concrit and stuff! And also, thank you to everyone who liked or reblogged the first snippet of it on tumblr and commented with encouragement and interest in more. Threesomes are my porn writing logistical nemesis. I really hope I'm doing okay with these boys. <3

They have everything they need in the hotel room already—more than they'll need, really. Kurt leaves the toys in the luggage, just takes out the condoms and lubricant. A room in a Lima hotel is hardly the place Kurt would have chosen for this; home would be more comfortable, but there is _something_ about a hotel room that shifts boundaries and reduces inhibition. With the addition of the heightened emotion of a wedding, perhaps this is the perfect setting.

Still, Kurt sighs at the dated decor of his and Blaine's suite: rose pink carpet with watermelon green accents—the waxy looking faux oak finishes on the furniture, the country style quilt on the too-firm bed, the uninspired watercolor landscapes hanging on the walls. Kurt starts with the quilt. He pulls it off the bed and folds it, sets it aside in the closet. Then he picks up what's left of their wedding prep disorder. Hangs what needs to be hung, folds what needs to be folded, goes into the bathroom to put away toiletries and wipe down the sink. Makes sure there's no lingering evidence of the handjob he'd given Blaine in front of the mirror after he'd got out of the shower. (And he smiles at the memory.)

Kurt's hands are not shaking as he takes his phone from his pocket and taps the volume back on, in case Blaine texts a change of plans. _"Anything you want, honey,"_ Kurt had told him. _"Just let me know."_

The room is as orderly and welcoming as he can make it, so he goes to get ice, and tries to concentrate on that simple task. The soft tread of his leather soles across the pile of the hotel carpet, the negligible weight of the ice bucket in his hand. But it's hard not to think about how they got here tonight.

#

"I don't know why I ever thought I had a chance with her today," Sam says, leaning toward Kurt, over Blaine, who sits between them. He speaks just loud enough to be audible to the three of them as they sit on the hard wooden pew. "Of course she has a boyfriend. Just look at her. And look at _him_." Sam continues. "Is he a model or something?"

Kurt glances up from where he's been tugging loose the fingers of his leather gloves. Mercedes is standing near the altar talking with the officiant, her arm looped through that of her latest LA beau, Martin. They moved in together a month ago, if Kurt recalls the timeline of their romance, and it's growing serious. And Martin is definitely model material. Adonis-like, really—tall, chiseled and broad shouldered, with that west coast glow about him, like he's brought the sun with him to chilly Ohio, carried in the highlights of his honey blond hair and the glint of the Pacific ocean in his green eyes. Mercedes, resplendent in her red bridesmaid dress, sparkles under his attention. They look good together.

"She said he models," Kurt says. "But only part time. He's studying civil engineering at UCLA."

"He's okay, I guess," Blaine says reassuringly. "Not really my type."

Kurt looks at Blaine, raises one eyebrow. Given the anxious state Blaine had been in this morning over seeing Sam again, it's not surprising that he's a little off his game. It's been months (Longer?) since they've seen each other, and while Kurt finds the earnestness and durability of Blaine's crush on Sam both lovely and a little heartbreaking, he's not above gentle teasing. "Oh, really, Blaine? I thought you liked well-built blonds?"

"So he's smart, too." Sam sighs.

Kurt gets the point of Blaine's elbow against his ribs as Blaine says, "You're smart, Sam. The art you make is genius." And that's true enough. Sam managed a scholarship to an art school, transitioned his macaroni art into mosaics with more traditional media. After a gallery show at his school, he got a commission to do an accent wall in the master-bathroom of a new home in Dublin. He's been texting Blaine photos.

"I guess," Sam says and sighs again, even more heavily. He twists in his seat and looks around. Kurt follows his gaze. Brittany and Santana sit together, lost in their own world, the same way they used to be in the choir room. Quinn is there with a man she's been introducing as her good friend. And though her body language indicates that's true, she's staying close to him. She looks happy, relaxed and smiling more easily than Kurt's ever seen. It suits her.

"This wedding is like a freakin' ex-girlfriend convention," Sam says.

~

Later at the reception, Kurt leans against the bar and sips his strawberry daiquiri while, beside him, Sam unenthusiastically nurses a warming beer. Sam's been watching Brittany dance with Santana with a flicker of sadness in his gaze. Kurt watches Sam watch them. Blaine's dancing with Tina, and Kurt does not fail to notice the way Sam's gaze occasionally drifts toward Blaine and lingers. How the sadness fades when it does, changes to something softer that Kurt isn't sure he recognizes, at least not on Sam.

"Do I have rebound guy tattooed on my forehead or something?" Sam asks, glancing at Kurt; a hint of a smile tugs the corner of his mouth.

"Hmm," Kurt says and tilts his head to make a show of looking. "Looks more like it says sweet and hot to me," he says, smiles at Sam.

Sam laughs, gives Kurt a curious look. "I don't know, man, I'm just tired of feeling used. I'm starting to think girls are too much trouble."

Kurt takes a long sweet pull of his drink, thick and cold through the straw. He swallows. "I don't know. I'm not sure it's girls," Kurt says. He lets the easy buzz of alcohol loosen his tongue. "Maybe you're too much of a giver." He's had some experience with the hot sweet rebound ready guy, who was only too happy to give, expect little in return, until everything got complicated and awkward and it ended in tears.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Kurt shrugs, lowers his glass and plays with his straw. "Depends what you do with it. But if you're always putting other people first and you're with the wrong person, you might not get enough back. If you don't know how to ask for the things you want or need." It's a lesson Kurt has learned the hard way. Twice, he's been the wrong person.

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"Well... It might be why you and Blaine get along so well. He's the same way. He'll give and give and sacrifice silently. So, you and Blaine, you give a lot to each other, and it somehow balances out okay."

"What about you? You're like, always doing stuff for people."

"I try," Kurt says, shakes his head ruefully. "But don't have the knack. Sometimes I have trouble working out the difference between what I think a person needs, and what they actually need." Fortunately, he's learned how to blend his tendency for control with his generosity in a way that works well for both Blaine and himself. But he's not without his flaws. "I'm also nearly as self-obsessed as Narcissus," he admits with wry self-deprecation. "So, there's that."

Sam laughs again, softly. Looks at Blaine again. There's a growing weight in Sam's gaze each time it finds Blaine. Appreciative, perhaps. Which prompts Kurt to consider Sam. It's easy to slip into seeing him as he was back in High School rather than how he is now. He's still easy on the eyes, although hot and sweet is only part of it. The pretty adolescent boy has changed into a handsome young man. The kindness and the cuteness have remained, and Kurt's often been grateful for both. Beneath his scrutiny, Kurt sees Sam grin at a particularly enthusiastic flourish Blaine makes as he dips Tina.

"You've really missed him, huh?" Kurt asks quietly, seeking hints of what Sam's attention may mean. He knows how much Blaine's missed Sam. 

There's the smallest hesitation, and Sam nods before he says, just as quietly—intimately—like it's an admission, "Yeah, I really have, even more than I expected." Sam turns to regard Kurt, and Kurt meets his gaze evenly without challenge. "I... actually, miss you, too. Sometimes." Sam holds Kurt's gaze for several long heartbeats, long enough it makes Kurt's breath falter.

Unsure how to navigate this—whatever this is—Kurt ventures, "I never did thank you for taking care of him when I... wasn't."

"Yeah, well, rebound guy!" Sam says with a sardonic grin, jabbing one thumb against his chest. But then he glances down and sobers. "You two seem to be doing okay now."

Kurt nods. "We've found a rhythm, learned how to take care of each other better. He's better at talking. I'm better at listening."

"He looks really good," Sam says, and the way his gaze tracks over Blaine's body has Kurt wondering.

"The city suits him," Kurt says.

"It suits you too." Sam's gaze moves to Kurt, drags down Kurt's body briefly, then back up to his face. The way Sam smiles... That definitely feels flirtatious. Now it's Kurt's turn to look at Sam with curiosity.

The music changes to something slow, and Kurt wonders if he can prompt a little more clarity. He doesn't want to assume. "Maybe I should rescue Blaine, in case Tina decides to grab his ass," he says, pauses, and speaks the next more slowly and clearly to Sam, with—he hopes—sufficient deliberation and intention in his voice: "Unless you want to, Sam."

"Grab Blaine's ass?"

Kurt's laughter comes so suddenly, he nearly ends up with daiquiri up the back of his nose. " _Dance_ with him," Kurt says, fishing in his pocket for his handkerchief. "Though if you wanted to cop a feel, I know for a fact he wouldn't mind."

It takes at least a minute before Sam looks at him and asks, very seriously, "Would you? Mind?"

So that _is_ how it is. "That would depend entirely on your intentions," Kurt takes a breath and pushes forward, chooses alcohol lubricated bluntness, because it's not worth being oblique over something like this. If Kurt's wrong, they can laugh it off. Kurt smiles as he speaks, tries to make it half-joke, half-serious—but all potential proposition (and a mild warning, if one is needed). "Are you just looking for someone to suck your dick because you're lonely at a wedding, or are you up for something more?"

"Dude, I wou— Wait." Sam frowns in confused surprise. His voice drops to a whisper and he leans closer. "Kurt? Are you, um... like, _offering_?"

"And if I am?" Kurt asks, steady, but he can't quite keep the sudden breathlessness from his voice.

"Uh," Sam says, and looks down at his beer for a moment, before taking a long drink. His lips are wet when he lowers his glass. He presses them together and looks at Kurt. "It is..." Sam trails off with a heavy exhale. He closes his eyes for a moment. Opens them and continues. "It's definitely something I've thought about," he says softly.

"Have you?" Kurt asks, intrigued. Sam's never been defensive in saying he's straight, but Kurt remembers well when he thought Sam might not be so perfectly heterosexual. He's always wondered _what if_ : what if Finn hadn't been such an utter ass? "Because you know Blaine likes you? And you like that he does?"

Sam is blushing and biting at his bottom lip. It's actually pretty adorable. "Well, yeah, but, I mean, it's not just that. You, um—"

"You and I both know how Blaine feels about you. I won't let you take advantage of that," Kurt speaks gently, but he keeps a hint of steel in his voice. It's something he knows Blaine is open to. Too open, Kurt worries. Kurt won't risk Blaine's heart, no matter how pleasurable or how often they've talked about it between themselves.

"I... really care about him, Kurt. And I know, you and me, we're not as close, but I care about you too. You've always been an amazing friend, and I get that you and Blaine have been through a lot. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Or you."

"Then," Kurt turns toward Sam, but maintains the comfortable distance between them. He's not pushing, not really. Just wants Sam to talk. "Would you tell me what you would like to do to him—or, rather, with us. If you were given the opportunity."

Sam's eyes widen. Kurt buys him another beer and gets Sam to tell him.

~

On the dance floor, Blaine swaps Tina for Brittany when the music changes. He sends the occasional glance back at Kurt and Sam as he dances. His smile is wide; his eyes bright; and his body moves with invitation. Difficult to resist, especially now that Kurt understands what may be possible for them tonight. A hum of anticipation has settled beneath his skin. He looks away from Blaine to Sam, whose cheeks are flush with color and whose lips part as Kurt leans well into his personal space this time, holds his gaze. "I'm going to talk to Blaine," Kurt says, he flicks his gaze down to Sam's lips with a smile and sees how Sam's pupils expand.

"Cool," Sam says, and though there's a note of nerves there, Kurt knows Sam means it. He's been surprisingly open.

Kurt sets his glass down and goes to Blaine.

~

"Hey, you," Kurt says, as he takes Blaine's hand and spins him into his arms. Brittany twirls away to find another partner.

"Hi," Blaine breathes through his grin. "Was hoping you'd join me."

And though the music is fast, Kurt pulls Blaine against him; his palm presses against the supple curve of Blaine's spine as Blaine yields himself so easily to Kurt's hold. Like he always does, and it sends Kurt's heart beating harder, his blood hotter, and Kurt has to close his eyes for a moment to center himself.

"You and Sam looked friendly," Blaine says, teasing, a little sarcastic, because he _doesn't know_ yet.

"Mmhm," Kurt says, turns his head so their cheeks brush and his breath is in Blaine's ear. "How would you feel about helping out a bro tonight?"

Blaine laughs, "You want to go make out in the back of the car for old time's sake?"

"No," Kurt says. "Sam."

Blaine stiffens. "What?"

So Kurt explains. All those fantasies they've shared with each other, of another man in their bed, of that man being—maybe, even if impossibly—Sam, they're not impossible tonight.

Kurt remembers both hot summer afternoons and cold winter evenings, Blaine naked in his arms, talking to him, telling him in details both specific and explicit, the things he'd do, the things he'd want, given the opportunity. And Kurt would touch him, prompt him, embellish the fantasy with his own desire, until they'd both be drenched in sweat and Blaine would be begging for Kurt to let him come.

Tonight, Kurt, with Sam, can make this happen for Blaine, and Kurt wants to, badly. Ultimately, though, it's Blaine's decision, so Kurt gives him the space to make it. "I'll go to the room, and you can bring Sam, if you want to," Kurt says.

He lingers long enough to watch Blaine approach Sam, who waits at the bar. Sam smiles tentatively, Blaine smooths one hand over his hair, and then Kurt goes to the room.

#

Back in the suite, Kurt sets the ice bucket on the dresser by the TV. He's not going to overthink this. Doesn't want to talk himself out of it. Keeps wondering if he's meant to be jealous; he's not. It's different, like he's giving Blaine a gift, and maybe Sam, too. He _hopes_ Sam too, because this should be good for them all. Blaine may be his priority, as he told Sam when they spoke, but Kurt promised they'd take good care of Sam too.

Kurt reduces the light to just the mellow pinkish glow of the table lamps by the bed. Makes sure there are three water glasses within reach. He rummages in his suitcase for a spare pair of pajamas, in case Sam stays.

 _In case Sam stays_ , his brain sticks on. He holds the neatly folded stack of top and bottoms. Light blue and burgundy striped white cotton with burgundy piping. Blaine got them for him this past Christmas. The pocket is monogrammed. Kurt imagines Sam wearing them. He's shared clothes with Sam before, of course. Not only when Sam was in need, but also when he lived with them Kurt's senior year.

His phone chimes: a text from Blaine, "Sam's coming. Do we need anything?"

"Okay," Kurt says to the phone, nods to himself, and sends back to Blaine, "Everything ready here. See you soon."

Blindly, Kurt steps backward to the edge of the bed, sits as his fingers release his phone and go to his collar, loosening his tie enough to open the top button. Then he bends to unlace his shoes.

Instead of staring at the door, waiting for it to open, Kurt places his hands on his thighs and looks straight ahead, into the mirror opposite the bed. Two years ago, he was in a similar enough place: a hook up with a friend at a wedding. But it was never that simple. Kurt knew it then (even if he was loath to acknowledge it); he knows it well now—now that he and Blaine have come back to one another, stronger and easier. He wonders what it is he knows today that may not be simple or easy to acknowledge.

There's history among them at least: honesty, affection, and respect. They can do this, and it will be good.

Kurt startles at the slide-click of the door unlocking. He exhales slowly and composes himself enough to stand smoothly as Blaine and Sam come in.

They're smiling—teeth flashing grins—and holding hands, Blaine leading Sam. Blaine catches Kurt's gaze first. Their eyes lock. Blaine nods; his grin widens. Kurt lifts his chin and smiles back. His shoulders relax. He looks at Sam, keeps smiling easily, and says, "I'm glad you decided to join us."

"Yeah, me too," Sam says, and the way Sam is looking at him—contemplative and something else, something eager—Kurt's seen it before. He remembers Sam looking at him that way after he'd performed "Le Jazz Hot".

 _Ah_. Now Kurt knows what that meant and how he wasn't wrong about Sam. Not entirely.

Kurt's pleased to see Sam's expression grow even more fond as he turns back to Blaine, and the way Blaine is looking back at Sam, wide-eyed and delighted.

"So, um, how do y—?" Blaine starts, but he's cut off when Sam puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder, leans in and kisses him full on the mouth.

The rush of air as Blaine inhales sharply through his nose is audible, even over the softer hitch of Kurt's own breath. Kurt sits back down before his knees give out.

Blaine grapples for a hold on Sam, grabbing a handful of tie, shirt, and lapel. Pulls Sam in closer as Blaine pushes up against his lips, and then there's the visible slide of Blaine's tongue and Sam's lips parting, and Kurt cannot look away, cannot move—can barely breathe.

For all that he and Blaine have talked about doing this—wanting it in the hypothetical instance of it being possible—moving it from the realm of shared imagination into that of reality sets a anxious flutter in Kurt's chest. As good as Blaine and Sam look together, it doesn't erase the time (long past now, but still a vivid enough memory) when Kurt's mind had been poisoned by the thought—by the carefully constructed logic of betrayal and obsession—of another man touching Blaine. His nightmares were stalked by the images of Blaine with nameless strangers, touching him, kissing him, using him. So Kurt had worried that seeing this, someone else touching Blaine, might bring back some of that acrid emotion.

It doesn't, for it's not simply _someone_ touching Blaine; it's Sam. And Kurt doesn't doubt the depth of Sam's respect and affection for Blaine—for them both; and Kurt knows it is amply returned. So Kurt lets himself admire the spectacle of Sam and Blaine kissing with nothing more fraught than the heated thrum of anticipation rising beneath his skin. 

Sam breaks the kiss with a wide, breathless smile. His cheeks are stained a ruddy pink, and it's like his lips were holding Blaine upright, for Blaine slumps back against the wall like his strings have been cut; his eyelids slip closed, and his chest heaves. His hold on Sam's clothing loosens, and Kurt can see how his hands tremble as he smooths down what he's rumpled.

"Okay," Blaine whispers. "Okay."

A tendril of doubt clears Kurt's head, to see Blaine falling so fast, and while that's undoubtedly hot, Kurt realizes he won't be able to sit back quietly and simply watch them for long. He's not sure how well prepared Sam may be for the intensity of Blaine's desire. Kurt stands.

But perhaps he's underestimated Sam, for he's now touching Blaine's face and asking, "Are you good? Is this too weird?"

Blaine's jaw works soundlessly, and a little tremor ripples across his shoulders.

Kurt says softly, "Blaine?"

Blaine opens his eyes—too bright. He looks at Kurt, smiles, and then turns back to Sam and says clearly if hoarsely, "I'm fine." He adjusts his grip upon Sam's lapel; his eyelashes flutter down and then up again, he tilts his head; the angle of his jaw beckons. " _Very_ fine, in fact."

"Yeah?" Sam grins.

"Yeah."

"Then, can I...?" Sam's hand drifts from Blaine's cheek to the buttons of his suit jacket.

"Yes," Blaine says and pulls Sam's mouth back against his, hard.

Sam hums into the kiss as he undoes Blaine's jacket, and then gets to work on his shirt, fumbling just a little bit with the mirror image of what he's accustomed to. Watching Blaine's clothes come undone under Sam's hands is like viewing some kind of custom made porn tailored for Kurt's brain: two boys he's desired—does desire—desiring each other. Blaine, slim and dark and slick; and Sam muscular and fair and tousled. The visual contrast is delicious. They look amazing together. Even better as Sam pushes Blaine's undershirt up and Kurt sees skin.

With fingers he barely feels, Kurt undoes his tie, strips it from around his collar, and slips his jacket off. He lays them over the back of the desk chair. He thinks to recall some of the specifics of Blaine's fantasies, to find a cue for himself in this.

_"And then... then he's..."_

_"What's he doing, Blaine?"_

_"His hand's on my belt, undoing it. And you're... uh, you're..."_

_"What am I doing?"_

_"You're like, behind him, undressing him—taking his shirt off—and then pushing him down, to his knees, and telling him to look at me, and..."_

_"Do you want him to suck your dick?"_

_"Yes, god yes."_

_"Okay, I tell him to do that."_

Nice fantasy, but it may be too ambitious. From their earlier conversation, Kurt's certain Sam's not going to want to move that fast, even if he said he wants to try giving a blowjob. It's up to Kurt to enable Sam's curiosity without pushing him into discomfort. 

But Kurt goes to them anyway, puts one hand on Sam—his upper arm, and feels the solid _size_ of Sam's bicep (thrilling) and the other hand, he slips behind Blaine's neck, curving his palm to fit his hand to its slope, finding with his thumb the short curl of hair behind Blaine's ear, tracing the arc of the lock that never will quite lie straight.

The familiarity of Blaine, the specific texture of his skin near his hairline, slightly tacky with product, the scent of him this close—bittersweet product and spicy-smooth cologne—helps settle Kurt's nerves. The close-up view of Blaine's mouth working hungrily with Sam's does not. This close, Kurt also catches Sam's scent—clean and open, like late summer afternoons cooled by the first breath of autumn.

They break the kiss, and Blaine looks at him, dark-eyed and dazed. Then Sam turns his attention to Kurt, takes Kurt by the chin, leans in, and presses his mouth to Kurt's. Startled, Kurt tries to return the kiss with lips that feel clumsy beneath the curious softness of Sam's. Sam's kiss is patient, the glance of his tongue shy, and Kurt unclenches his fist from the sleeve of Sam's jacket, takes a steadying breath in through his nose, and relaxes his lips.

Around the wrist of his hand upon Blaine's neck, Kurt feels Blaine's fingers close gently. Then Blaine is nuzzling at his hand, coaxing Kurt to open his fingers, and pressing ticklish kisses to Kurt's palm and the tender inside of his wrist. The sensation jangles the nerves all the way up Kurt's arm, forces a whimper up his throat.

Sam's other hand alights warm, with unfamiliar calluses, upon Kurt's jaw, and Sam draws him into a better angle, slips his tongue between Kurt's lips to skate across his bottom teeth. It feels strangely possessive. And yet, it's so different from Blaine's kisses; no matter how hungry or demanding, there's always something in Blaine that yields to Kurt. Sam is giving, but not giving _in_. But, despite the insistence of Sam's hand and mouth, there's a tentativeness in his kiss too. His tongue moves like an uncertain trespasser with an unfamiliar rhythm. His lips are flower petal _soft_ —of course they are. When Kurt parts his lips further to invite Sam to deepen the kiss, he tastes the creamy sweetness of the wintergreen breath mints Sam favors beneath which is the bitter trace of beer. The beckoning heat of desire blooms in Kurt's belly, and Blaine bites at the fleshy heel of his hand.

(And somewhere in Kurt's consciousness, a giddy remnant of his seventeen-year-old self is pumping his fist in vindication, because—god fucking damn it—he's kissing Sam Evans and he's pretty sure Sam Evans is liking it.)

Then Blaine's mouth is on the side of Kurt's neck, and Blaine's hand is at Kurt's belt buckle. "Let's go to the bed," he murmurs, hot breath near Kurt's ear. Kurt shivers and Sam eases back. Kurt breathes and opens his eyes. Sam looks at him, wide-eyed. Blaine sucks at the side of Kurt's neck as he pops the prong of Kurt's buckle free of the leather. 

"Yeah, we should do that," Kurt says, and he lets Blaine's hand, low on his waist, push him backward toward the bed. Sam doesn't move to follow, just presses his lips together as he undoes his suit jacket.

"Coming?" Kurt asks Sam; the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and Blaine whips his belt from its loops, tosses it aside, starts untucking Kurt's shirt, pauses only to jerk his arms from his own suit jacket and toe off his shoes, and then his hands are back on Kurt, slipping the buttons of his shirt free, one by one.

Sam nods absently and ducks his shoulders out of his jacket. It falls to the floor. He still doesn't move closer. "Nervous?" Kurt asks Sam. Blaine slows down, and turns to look over his shoulder.

Sam nods. "A little."

"Are you having second thoughts, Sam?" Blaine asks. "It's okay if you are."

"No, but..." Sam gestures vaguely toward them. His hair falls forward into his face. "I'm not sure what to do exactly? Could I maybe, just... like... watch you two for a little while?"

If Kurt weren't already perfectly hard, hearing Sam's proposal would totally get him there. A fresh flush of blood prickles across his chest at the thought of Sam watching— No, not just watching: Sam _enjoying_ watching them. He glances at Blaine, sees him nod. "Yeah," Kurt says, breathless. "No pressure. You can join in whenever you're comfortable, if you want, or... whatever works best for you."

"That wouldn't be creepy?" Sam asks.

Blaine laughs softly as his hand drifts down Kurt's torso to rest lightly over the hard line of Kurt's cock, as if he's not only verifying Kurt's interest for himself, but also showing it to Sam, and then he says emphatically, "No."

Kurt swallows a gasp when Blaine squeezes, and then he manages a wobbly smile of encouragement even as Sam's gaze drops from Kurt's face to Blaine's hand.

"Okay, cool," Sam says. He unbuttons his dress shirt and heads toward the mauve armchair by the window.

With a grin, Blaine turns back to Kurt, and pushes him backward. Kurt falls to the mattress with a soft 'oof', and Blaine is quick to follow him. He straddles Kurt and grinds his ass down against Kurt's cock as he finishes unbuttoning Kurt's shirt. Kurt bites his lip and pushes his hips up against Blaine, looks at him from beneath heavy eyelids and wonders what Blaine's got planned (because he seems to have something in mind) in terms of putting on a show for Sam.

But Blaine doesn't give Kurt a lot of time for wondering. He's pushing Kurt's shirt open and leaning down to lick broadly across Kurt's nipple while he finds the other with his fingers and pinches. Hard.

Kurt's mouth comes open as his lungs heave out a breathless, "Fuck," and then he rolls his head to the side to check on Sam, who is pulling his arms free of his shirt and revealing a torso that would make Taylor Lautner jealous. Sam looks like the lovechild of Captain America and Thor, which is a comparison Kurt is sure Sam would appreciate, so he'll try to remember it for later. But right now, he's losing the ability to bring actual words up to his tongue for the way Blaine is sucking and tugging at his nipples. The only sound that escapes his lips is a piteous sounding whimper when Blaine bites down, gently enough, but sharp and bright and irresistible. 

At the sound, Sam's gaze finds Kurt's and Kurt tries to smile. Sam's flush is moving down his neck and he's breathing heavily through parted lips. Kurt watches the way his gaze roves, down to Blaine's mouth and hands upon Kurt's bared skin. Sam stares, and Kurt wonders how they look.

It's a longstanding turn-on and fantasy, being watched. Kurt loves sex with the lights on. He loves to see Blaine's body and to be seen himself. Loves to perform for Blaine, loves to be on display for Blaine, loves the heated weight of Blaine's attention on his physical self. Has always loved the idea of someone watching him—or them—with desire and appreciation (and he knows Blaine shares that fantasy), but the reality is different from the daydream. Kurt finds he is freshly self-conscious of his body in a way he hasn't been since he was in high school. It's not the self-consciousness of performance, but that of approval and the fear of judgment.

He's aware, from working on the stage, how he looks from every angle, in every mood, with every expression and posture and movement. But this? He's thought about how they look having sex, but he doesn't actually know beyond what he sees reflected in the mirror by their bed, which is less about a third party's taste than it is about their own. He doesn't know Sam's taste. Has never even thought to ask Sam such personal questions as his porn preferences—or ask Blaine if he knows.

So Kurt is aware of everything, like the _way_ Blaine is kissing his way back up Kurt's neck and finding his mouth, and, as Blaine's tongue slips warm alongside his own, he wonders if they look good kissing, because—for himself—kissing is the make it or break it for porn. It can look weird and unsexy and crude—or it can be hot and tender and compelling. Kurt tries to kiss back as prettily as he can, and he hopes he succeeds, because usually he's more concerned about how it feels than how it looks. Which, in this moment, feels awkward. And he regrets now that they never have made a sex tape of themselves. (Another thing talked about, but not actually done, even though it would be so easy to pull out one of their phones...)

Blaine's mouth slides to his cheek with a soft gust of quiet laughter, like he knows exactly what's going through Kurt's mind—and he may well. "You're too tense," he murmurs into Kurt's ear. "Stop thinking so hard."

And then Blaine is moving away, shuffling down Kurt's body and reaching for Kurt's fly. Kurt wasn't expecting to have his pants come undone first, but he can't resist Blaine pulling his fly open and drawing his cock out. Nor can he resist watching Blaine, lowering himself and opening his mouth to take Kurt in, one long sweet slide down. No hesitation or teasing or easy warm up, just the immediate enveloping suction and heat of Blaine's mouth around his cock. Each glide up and back down, drives Kurt's desire into a deeper, hungrier ache.

Kurt makes a noise that Sam could probably translate from Klingon, and he has to close his eyes for a minute. His heart races and his breath comes shallow and too quick, for Sam's gaze and Blaine's mouth are both burning upon him.

Randomly, Kurt imagines Sam getting his phone out and filming them, filming Blaine going down on Kurt and then zooming in on Kurt's face, his searing hot cheeks and sore bitten lips, and then dragging down to capture the tension in the arch of his neck, the speeding flutter of his pulse at his throat; the way one hand fists into to the sheets and the other finds Blaine's head, to mold his palm to the shape of Blaine's skull while Kurt murmurs a crackling, faint, "So good, baby." And then the camera stays on Blaine, a steady close up on the diligent work of his mouth. Kurt would love to see that. But he's not going to ask Sam. But he wants to revisit this idea of filming themselves with Blaine sometime. But, oh... not _now_. Now he wants to wallow in _this_.

Opening his eyes, Kurt pulls his attention from Blaine to Sam again, who is now distinctly hard in his pants and shifting in his seat. Sam looks back and his gaze locks with Kurt's, and Kurt's cock is in Blaine's mouth and Sam is looking directly, unabashedly at him with such naked desire. Kurt swallows and moistens his lips. He reaches out a hand to Sam and gathers enough air to speak: "Come here?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sam comes to Kurt. For a moment, he hesitates by the bed, rubbing the pads of his fingertips against his thumbs, until Kurt beckons again. Kurt's hand meets Sam's thigh as he kneels up on the edge of the mattress beside Kurt. He looks between Kurt and Blaine. "What do you want me to do?" Sam asks.

"Uh," is all Kurt manages at first, for Blaine is slowing down and sucking harder, and his keen gaze rises to watch Sam and Kurt. Sweat gathers across Kurt's scalp; he feels the slide of it across his temple, feels it beading on his cheeks. Blaine keeps steady, plying Kurt with a viscous hot build up; it's not enough to get Kurt anywhere soon, but it's enough to keep him dazed and blinking a fresh drip of perspiration from his eyes. It's a struggle to coordinate his lips and tongue. But Kurt slides his hand up Sam's thigh, and, "May I?" he asks, thin and high. He bites down on the moan that follows, and it's like something out of one of his particularly vivid sex dreams when he slides his hand over the shape of Sam's hard cock behind his fly.

"Yeah," Sam says, and he unbuckles his belt as Kurt takes the tab of his zipper. And then Sam's pushing his trousers and briefs down his muscular thighs and his cock is _right there_ , above Kurt's upturned face. Kurt's staring at it, panting to catch his breath, one hand now pressed against the planes of Sam's lower abdomen, his fingers fanned across the groove of his Adonis belt. His other hand still rests upon Blaine's head, his fingers nestled between the stiff, gelled-smooth strands.

Sam's cock is as lovely as the rest of him: well-proportioned, gently curved with a dark pink flush, thick shaft, and gracefully tapered head. The hunger to touch, to taste, to feel, jolts hard in Kurt's gut. He flicks his gaze up to Sam, who looks back with darkening eyes and a furrowed brow. 

It seems a fragile thing then, the moment that expands between them. Kurt has to glance down at Blaine, to both verify permission and ballast his own confidence. Blaine pulls off Kurt's cock slowly, holds his gaze with affection and a wide open understanding that weaves through the spaces of doubt, fills them in, reconnects the pieces of Kurt that are fraying. Blaine smiles, Kurt smiles back, and it only lasts an instant, but it's all Kurt needs. Blaine goes back down with a soft moan, and Kurt turns his attention back to Sam.

Kurt is going to do this: he moves the hand from Blaine's hair and wraps it around Sam's silky shaft so he can push himself up with his other arm to half sit and twist his torso. He leans in to press a kiss to the crown of Sam's pretty cock.

"Oh, okay," Sam says, and his fingertips brush over Kurt's hair and then skim down the back of Kurt's neck to rest between his shoulder blades, light and uncertain, and somehow that makes it even more erotic: being the first man to do this for Sam. And Sam smells _good_ —clean like fresh linens dried in the sun amidst the deeper, rounder nose-filling scent of sex.

Kurt licks delicately at first—in stark contrast to the strong pull of Blaine's mouth on him. It takes all of Kurt's concentration. He spreads the end of his tongue in a slow curling tease just under the head, and Sam shivers all over. Kurt has to swallow his own soft groan as Blaine hums and pushes all the way down Kurt's cock, taking him as deeply as Blaine can, and Kurt feels the soft constriction of Blaine's throat snug around the crown of his cock and Blaine's nose bumps against his pubic bone. Kurt closes his eyes as his eyes roll back and he parts his lips against just the tip of Sam's cock, softly suckles and mouths at the plush head and dips his tongue into the shallow groove.

"Umm," says Sam and his hand comes up to the back of Kurt's skull, ruffling his hair. But Kurt can't tell if it's encouraging or cautionary, so he withdraws and pauses. Takes a breath and opens his eyes. Kurt turns his gaze up and runs the underside of his tongue across his bottom lip. Offers Sam a smile. 

"All right?" he asks. Wonders if Sam wants Blaine to be the one doing this. 

Sam nods, wide-eyed and stunned. " _Oh_ , definitely, yeah," he says. "Just..." He gestures between them.

"I can... um... do something else?" Kurt lets go of Sam and reaches for Blaine to still him. "Or _we_ can. Would you prefer—?"

Blaine lifts off Kurt once more, presses a kiss to Kurt's fingertips.

"No, no," Sam protests. "This is _good_. God, I didn't think it would be this good is all. You guys are... uh, hot." 

"Oh!" Kurt says, and he can't stop himself from grinning broadly, covers his mouth to stifle his laugh and looks at Blaine, who is smiling brightly back at Sam. "Well, then," Kurt says.

This time, Kurt holds Sam's gaze as he sucks Sam's cockhead between his lips. Sam's pulse throbs hard upon his tongue as he pushes forward, gradually opening wider and taking more. Sam's quiet now, there's just the rush of his breath, deepening and quickening, his lips coming apart in pleasure slackened astonishment.

And Blaine returns his attention to Kurt's erection. Long, lazy licks with a wide and soft tongue, replace the encompassing suction. Kurt can't really see Blaine, not without stopping what he's doing himself. But he knows how Blaine looks doing this, how his lips will be spit shiny and plumped, his eyes heavily-lidded with satisfaction.

The angle's not good though. Kurt's neck is already complaining, the crimp of his wrist already aching. And they all still have their pants on. Kurt slides off Sam and clears his throat. "Could you please," he says to Sam, "Take your pants off?"

He looks down at Blaine. "Help me with mine?"

They all break apart to finish undressing, and then they come back to the bed naked.

Blaine reaches for Sam, pulls him in by his shoulders and kisses him, soft and open, and Sam reaches straight for Blaine's dick; Blaine shivers and moans and pushes into Sam's grip. Kurt scoots to the side to give them space, and to let himself cool off and catch his breath. As he watches them, he reaches for one of the glasses from the night table, takes a mouthful of water. Then Sam breaks the kiss, rolls Blaine to his back, and asks, "Can I try?" he asks. "I want to suck you."

"Oh," Blaine says, "Yeah. Please."

And just like that, Kurt's having trouble breathing again. He's caught, shifting his attention between watching Blaine's face, lit with delighted anticipation, and Sam's soft lips on Blaine's skin, kissing down the center of Blaine's chest. The glass is slick and cool resting against Kurt's bottom lip, but it's doing little to help cool him as Sam scoots back down the bed and pauses, rapt, his mouth open and hovering right above Blaine's blood-flushed, thick-veined cock. Kurt reaches down for himself, but he doesn't stroke, just needs the contact to soothe and center.

"Sam," Blaine says softly, and lifts up to his elbows to better watch.

In that moment, of Sam's hesitation and Blaine's gentle plea, it's so shockingly intimate between Blaine and Sam that Kurt feels like a voyeur—welcome to be sure, but not entirely part of what's happening. He knows how long Blaine has wanted this, how _much_. Knows, too, how Sam has thought about it, but it's brand new between them, to acknowledge this mutual desire and curiosity, to be on the verge of fulfilling it. Kurt says nothing, just sips his water and holds on.

They're a stunning spectacle. Sam's skin gleams with perspiration, and his fair hair falls against Blaine's belly when he lowers his head to press his plush lips just below the head of Blaine's cock. The sound Blaine makes—soft, almost childlike in its wonder, and full of sweet yearning—Kurt may never find the words to describe properly. Sweat has loosened the curls around Blaine's temples, darkened the long sweep of his eyelashes. It's been a long while since something was both this intimate and this novel with Blaine. Many of the firsts between them are done, but this is new for them too, for him to be seeing Blaine tense and trembling beneath Sam's attention, watching Blaine's beautiful face crumple into bliss.

Blaine's hands twitch and clench restlessly beside him, as if he's afraid to touch Sam while he's doing this for Blaine. Kurt lets go of himself, sets his glass aside, and reaches across the rumpled white sheets between them. He slides his hand beneath Blaine's, gives him something to hold on to, too.

It takes Sam a little while to work up to taking Blaine into his mouth. He starts with closed kisses and the curious brush and drag of his lips along Blaine's length: back and forth, up and down. The shine of Blaine's precome catches on his top lip, and Sam hesitantly licks it off. That seems to bolster his confidence, for it's then that he lifts Blaine's cock in his hand and presses his mouth more fully over the head of it. His cheeks hollow out as he opens and sucks it into his mouth. Blaine's fingers tighten around Kurt's. His eyelids droop closed, his mouth comes open, and his head falls back.

Sam is, once he gets going, very enthusiastic. Being familiar with the equipment, Kurt's always expected, would give many guys insight into giving a decent blow job even if he lacked actual experience. But, the logistics of it are still a challenge. Knowledge doesn't equal skill. Sam doesn't choke, but Kurt can tell he's struggling to take as much as he's trying to, and he can't quite get a good rhythm going. It looks like he's trying to do too many things at once. And while Blaine is not complaining (quite the opposite), Kurt is sure Sam can do even better. But Kurt doesn't move. He does speak though, quietly.

"Slow down, Sam," Kurt suggests. "And relax. No one's expecting you to deepthroat a cock like a porn star the first time."

At that, Sam pulls off with a gust of self-conscious laughter. Blaine makes a noise of mild distress and sinks back into the pillow behind him, lets go of Kurt's hand to reflexively reach for Sam, but stops himself, and his hand falls limply to the bed.

"Then maybe you could show me how to do that, Kurt?" Sam asks. There's a hint of something in Sam's grin—something smug and unexpectedly _knowing_ , like this is an inside joke, but not one Kurt is privy to.

"Oh?" Kurt turns to Blaine who avoids meeting his eyes. "Have you been kissing and telling, baby?"

Blaine opens his eyes and looks determinedly at the ceiling as he steadies his breathing. "There may have been a night with Sam," he says, "that may have involved a bottle of my father's Armagnac, and I may have waxed poetic about some of your... more... specific skills and how hard you worked to perfect them."

Kurt's eyebrows go up. He had no idea Blaine talked about the quality—or details—of their sex with Sam.

"He really missed you, dude," Sam offers. "I've never seen a guy talk about blowjobs and then cry like that."

"It was when we weren't together, Kurt. I was really drunk," Blaine says, apologetically.

"I see," Kurt says, and he tries to keep his tone as neutral as possible. He's not going to laugh, because that doesn't seem fair. It's an amusing enough image, but he knows how genuinely sad Blaine would've been, and how vulnerable he had to be to talk about such personal things. It's also nothing he wants Blaine to feel ashamed of. "That's fine."

"He was really drunk," Sam says gravely.

"Yeah," Blaine says; he rubs over his face with his hands, he pauses with hands over his eyes, and then he starts laughing. 

The surprise of Blaine's amusement is enough for Kurt to give in to the smile that wants to bend his lips. "Then I think I need to hear more about this evening," he says.

"There was some cuddling," Sam said. "To, you know, calm him down."

From behind his hands, Blaine nods and sighs. "Yes, there was cuddling."

"And Blaine kissed my neck."

Blaine uncovers his face. "What? No, I didn't."

"Your lips—" Sam points at Blaine and then himself. "My neck. I remember."

"That wasn't a _kiss_. I would never—"

"Dude, you were _nuzzling_."

"I face planted against your neck because I lost my balance and you caught me."

"Yeah, well, trying to practice the Gangnam Style choreography after four drinks wasn't your smartest move ever."

"Oh my god, okay," Kurt says, grinning. "Okay, I get the picture."

"The dancing was all before the crying," Sam says, as if the ordering of events is essential information for Kurt to understand. Maybe it is, but it's difficult still, to think for long about Blaine early on in the time during their break up. It's not a time he wants them to be dwelling in too much now.

"Right," Kurt says, and he reaches for Blaine's nearest hand again, slips his fingers between Blaine's and squeezes, but he looks at Sam. "So you're after a demonstration, then, Sam? Or just helpful tips?"

"Either?" Sam says. "Both?"

Kurt shrugs with one shoulder. "Blaine's actually better at this, but since he's the subject, I'll see what I can manage," Kurt says, wry humor in his smile. Blaine laughs, relieved, and rubs across Kurt's knuckles. With a grin, Sam shifts back on his heels to give Kurt more space. 

Kurt moves to kneel closer beside them, his knees tucked against Blaine's ribs. He presses his mouth to Blaine's opposite shoulder and releases his hand to drag his fingers over Blaine's belly. Takes a moment to steady himself, for teaching Sam how to blow Blaine hits a level of intimate detail Kurt's not well prepared for. It's not that he's unwilling, but he didn't expect this. Improvisation it will be. "Okay," Kurt says as he lifts his head and turns his attention to his hand. "First, just..." he slides his palm down to cover Blaine's length, strokes lightly up the underside with his open hand. "...take your time with him, not just at the start. Blaine enjoys it if you draw it out, tease him a little. Make him wait before you let him come. When he gets close, back off a few times."

"Yeah?" asks Sam.

"Mmm," Blaine says, and the pulse of blood in his cock makes it rise against Kurt's palm.

"Trust me," Kurt says, "it's hot."

"Okay," says Sam, and he rubs up Blaine's thighs with his hands.

"So, uh..." Kurt spares a glance back at Blaine, whose eyes shine with affection and gratitude. The reciprocal uncurls in Kurt's chest, warm and familiar despite the novelty of sharing this with Sam. Then Kurt turns back to Sam and Blaine's cock. His knees skid back toward the headboard as he turns and lowers himself down to his belly, feet kicked up behind him, facing the foot of the bed. 

"You already know what feels good," Kurt says, as he curls his fingers around Blaine more tightly, pets his belly with his other hand. "If you want to try to take him deeper, that's fine, but don't push yourself." Kurt lets the saliva accumulate in his mouth, ignores the throb of his own cock pressed against the sheets beneath him. "It takes patience and practice. You, uh, have to open up your throat, kind of like when you yawn? Breathe through your nose, and, um, if you start to gag, try to relax through it, but stop if you have to. Humming helps sometimes."

Sam nods, and Kurt braces a hand either side of Blaine's hips. Then, he exhales and opens his mouth, closes his eyes, and starts to take Blaine in. Blaine's hand comes to rest warm upon the back of his thigh, kneading along Kurt's hamstring in encouragement, pushing up to his backside and smoothing over one buttock. Kurt hums his approval and flattens his tongue low and wide, concentrates on keeping each breath even as he slides, slow and steady, down Blaine's length. 

From this angle, there's always a twinge when the flared ridge of Blaine's crown approaches the back of his tongue, but Kurt expects it, has learned to breathe through it and keep himself open around Blaine. He hums softly until he's confident the reflex has passed, and then he swallows. Blaine swears as Kurt's tongue pulls him deeper, past his soft palate. Another swallow, and it's nearly all Kurt can take. It's enough that Sam can see what's possible. So he reverses direction, begins to slide off, but then Sam's hand is on his head, gentle but urging him back down. "Keep going?" Sam asks.

Kurt opens his eyes, though he can't raise his gaze up much past Sam's navel. With Sam's cock just inches in front of him, and Blaine's cock already stretching his throat, Kurt lets out a soft moan, and works the muscles of his tongue and throat around Blaine's girth just as Blaine rocks his hips, a single shallow thrust that makes Kurt's eyes water and his eyelids flutter. 

And then Blaine's hand is moving to grab at his thigh, and he's tugging Kurt's leg. Instinctively, Kurt goes with the impulse of Blaine's touch, lets Blaine guide his leg over until he's straddling Blaine's chest and Blaine's pulling him back by the hips and nuzzling at his balls. Which makes Kurt wonder if Blaine and Sam have been making covert hand signals above him, coordinating some plan of their own. 

A thrill follows on the heels of his wondering, and a hot revelation expands in his mind, embeds itself deep in his gut. Of course, Sam and Blaine had their own conversation, and Kurt has his own fantasies that he's shared with Blaine, and _oh_ —he's not just here to enable their connection to each other. They're here for him too.

The emotion crests like a wave, springing tears behind his eyelids. Nothing sad or painful, but a strange variety of joy. It clamps so tightly in his throat and he has to release Blaine, and Sam lets him slide off. Panting to catch his breath and blinking to clear his vision, Kurt doesn't look up even as Sam's hand comes to cup beneath his jaw.

For Sam to see him like this—the exhilaration hits Kurt's so hard he nearly chokes on nothing. He _can't_ look up to see Sam's face, not when he's the one tumbling into his own desperate wanting. A shuddering inhale becomes a full body shiver at the soft press of Blaine's lips just behind his balls, as if Blaine is bestowing some sacred blessing upon him. "Oh god," Kurt whispers and then, dreamlike—like the air in his lungs is made of syrup, the words feel so thick, full, and sweet coming up his throat. "Sam, come closer," Kurt says, for he can do this. He aches to do this. He shifts his weight so he can reach out, curl his hand around Sam's stiff cock, and guide him forward, where he wants him. 

"Yeah, yeah," says Sam and Kurt can hear the dazed arousal in his voice, and he moves until Kurt's got him aligned with Blaine's cock, and Kurt changes his grip until he's got them both held together, snug and hot, right there. For him. He catches their mingled scents as he reaches with his lips and tongue. There's no way he can take them both into his mouth together—it's not something he even wants to attempt—but he does want them both like this. He licks from Blaine to Sam with a curling, slick tongue, circles each in a slippery figure-eight. Tastes them both, familiar and not. That's when Blaine, with a soft groan, slides his lips up and presses another hungrier, open-mouthed kiss to Kurt's rim, and Sam puts both hands in Kurt's hair. His hold is so light; the glancing touch of his fingertips at the edges of Kurt's ears makes his scalp prickle. And Blaine's tongue glides over his anus right up to his tailbone and then back down, scatters a hot chill up the length of his spine.

"Kurt," Sam says, and he nudges forward when Kurt next slips up from Blaine's cock to Sam's and sucks around his cockhead. And then Sam says it again, more breathlessly, "Kurt."

"Mmm," Kurt replies; he opens and lets Sam press in, and then he groans, even more deeply, as Blaine starts working him open with more determination, with slick hard thrusts of his tongue. Blaine's cock bumps against the tender skin below Kurt's chin, slides damply against his throat, and Kurt urges Sam in deeper. The hardest thing is splitting his concentration between the intoxicating play of Blaine's mouth, which is winding blistering hot pleasure tight in his belly, and the challenge of taking Sam's less familiar cock all the way in. The sound of his own moans seems too loud and foreign to Kurt's ears, and the muscles of his forehead, creasing with effort, he feels only distantly. 

More immediate is the thick weight of Sam's cock stretching his jaw and pushing the back of his tongue down, and Blaine's clever, strong tongue pressing into the sensitive center of him, coaxing him looser. His face is wet. There are tears leaking from his closed eyelids, saliva from the corners of his mouth, and the precious ache of arousal burns in every movement and muscle: Sam is rocking his hips gently, murmuring something soothing and sweet to Kurt, while Blaine's hands keep a bruising tight hold on Kurt's buttocks and his tongue twists and flickers and slides, and Kurt could nearly, nearly come like this. Instead he tries just to keep a rhythm: breathing, swallowing, relaxing; breathing, swallowing, relaxing... 

He lasts longer than he expects like that, but his endurance for it fragments, piece by piece. The harder Blaine presses, the farther his tongue reaches, the quicker Sam thrusts, pushing as deep as Kurt can take him, it's all more than he can endure. Soon, Kurt has to pull off Sam, because his muscles are twitching and tensing beyond his ability to control them. "Sorry," he gasps out, but Sam just urges him up—and up. Helps Kurt shift his weight back to his knees, and Kurt's settles back into the cradle of Blaine's hands, and Blaine is not stopping or slowing, so Kurt cannot catch his breath. Sam has him though, strong hands beneath Kurt's elbows until Kurt's got his balance, even though gravity still seems to swoop beneath him. With a feeble smile, Kurt tries his best to keep his eyes open, for the way Sam is looking at him is worth it. But he's unraveling fast now.

"Amazing," is all Sam says, and then he's leaning in and pressing his parted lips to Kurt's slack ones, and Kurt bends into Sam's kiss like a blade of grass, opens wide for Sam's tongue to fill his mouth, and it's soon working as deep and hungrily as Blaine's tongue is at his other end. Kurt rolls and presses his hips back greedily to meet Blaine's mouth, surges forward to return Sam's kiss with as much fervor as he can summon of his own, his fingers grasp for Sam's face, press into his sweat slicked cheeks and jaw, hold him close, and Sam's fingertips skate across his belly and down, down, to curl around his cock, tug up the length of him firmly—once, twice—and that's all it takes. He comes, sobbing into Sam's mouth, throbbing around Blaine's tongue, and spilling, long and hot, over Sam's hand and Blaine's chest.

Awareness creeps back as the buzz of Kurt's orgasm fades. Blaine and Sam are breathing as heavily as he is. He's tipped forward against Sam, who's petting his back, and Blaine's rubbing at the trembling muscles of his thighs, kissing his bare skin soothingly. "Oh," Kurt says. "Um." He rubs his lips together and takes a deep breath. "Wow."

"Okay?" Blaine asks, soft and warm.

Kurt huffs a silent laugh, shuffles forward on his rubbery legs, and glances back over his shoulder. "Understatement."

"Me or Kurt?" Sam asks, wiping the inside of his wrist across his thigh.

"Both of you," Blaine says, and he scoots back to sit up against the headboard.

"I'm good," Sam says. "Well, except..." He gestures toward his unsatisfied erection.

"Just a little dizzy," Kurt says. He shifts his weight, finds his thighs too wobbly to trust completely, but Sam holds his shoulders as Kurt carefully lifts one leg high enough to bring it back over Blaine without kicking him in the face.

"That was seriously hot," Sam says earnestly, and Kurt can hear the breathlessness in his voice, how turned on he is. But Sam lets go of Kurt and sits back on his heels, patient.

Kurt flumps down onto his back next to Blaine and reaches for the tissue box, passes it over. "You guys should—" Kurt waves a hand at them. "Carry on."

With a laugh, Blaine wipes off his belly, tosses the box in Sam's general direction, and then rolls toward Kurt, bends down and kisses him, just lips, sweet and slow. "You were fantastic," he says. His gaze is full of uncomplicated adoration.

"You should take care of Sam," Kurt says with a smile, looks past Blaine to Sam as Blaine pushes himself up to his knees.

"Yeah," Blaine says, and he goes to Sam. 

Kneeling, together, Blaine draws Sam into a kiss. It's chaste at first, and Kurt knows what Blaine's mouth tastes like—how Blaine's kisses will taste so intimately of himself—so he watches, dazed and sated but newly thrilling, as Sam slowly deepens the kiss, watches as his lips move more urgently, how he reaches farther into Blaine's mouth. Until, Blaine, breathless, breaks away and says, "So... do you want to fuck me now?"

"Yes," Sam says. He cups his palm against Blaine's cheek. "Definitely."


	3. Chapter 3

When Blaine reaches back toward Kurt, Kurt passes Blaine the lube and then reaches beside to the nightstand for a condom to toss over to Sam. Meanwhile, Blaine moves up the bed and lies back into the pillows. His movements are easy, confident and calm, which Kurt is relieved to see. The interplay of nerves and novelty hasn't been enough to hinder Blaine's desire or enthusiasm. Either that or he's doing a fine job of acting: sometimes it's still hard to tell. But, Kurt is at least certain that Blaine feels comfortable. A smile smile bends his lips.

As Blaine settles, his gaze holds steady within Sam's. Blaine opens and bends his legs beneath Sam's wide-eyed attention. Sam's not quite as relaxed as Blaine; he's gone solemn with apprehension and arousal. A stutter of hesitation is in his movements as he follows Blaine up the bed and gingerly rests a hand on Blaine's bent knee.

Without once glancing away from Sam, Blaine uncaps the lube and squeezes a generous amount of gel onto the tips of his index and middle fingers. After his orgasm, Kurt's head is clear, and he watches avidly. Blaine hitches one leg up, making Sam's light touch slip from his knee to his shin. Sam's grip tightens, and he inhales sharply, not quite a gasp, but it's enough for Kurt to feel the sound rouse an echo of sensation within himself, a sharp and eager pang.

Blaine dips his lubed fingers down between his legs, smiles more broadly with hopeful invitation, and he begins to finger himself open, thighs wide for Sam to see everything. The precise motion of Blaine's hand, Kurt cannot see, but he's witnessed this often enough that he has a good idea of what's filling up Sam's gaze. Blaine bites into his bottom lip and Kurt sees the way the muscles of his forearm ripple, the way his bicep contracts, the way his eyelids shiver. 

Even better is the way Sam's breathing hastens at the sight, making his chest rise and fall with each deepening breath. The heated interest in the weight of Sam's gaze makes Kurt wonder again: how long has a moment like this occupied space in Sam's sexual fantasies? Kurt wonders too, if it's always been Blaine, or if—maybe, perhaps—for a time it may have been himself.

"Does that feel good?" Sam asks, softly enough, but in the silence that's stolen upon them, it's abrupt. He shifts closer between Blaine's splayed legs and puts his free hand on Blaine's other leg, pushes it wider.

"Mm, yeah," Blaine murmurs, spreading himself further for Sam's scrutiny. The motion of his hand becomes more forceful, the slick sound of Blaine's well-lubricated thrusts punctuates.

"Can I?" Sam asks in a rush. "Try?"

"Oh..." Blaine says. "Uh, sure... yeah." Blaine shifts, withdraws his own touch, and he passes Sam the lube before groping in the sheets for a tissue. Kurt feels a fresh swell of heat in his belly, and the ache of his own curiosity twists low. To see Sam wanting Blaine; Sam wanting to touch Blaine; Sam wanting to fuck Blaine: it's all tinged with a swimmy sort of surrealism, like they've shifted out of time somehow. Their shared fantasy has overtaken their reality.

Kurt glances away from Blaine and Sam to the glowing numbers of the digital clock on the opposite night table. It's not yet midnight, though it feels as if they've been in this room for eons. Like the whole universe has collapsed into this one time-worn hotel room, shared among them as if they are the only beings in existence, and the few hours they have together have expanded into an eternity bound up within its walls.

"Okay?" Sam is asking Blaine, and Blaine is murmuring encouragement. Sam's moving his hand between Blaine's legs slowly, with concentration creasing a line between his eyebrows. And Blaine is... Blaine is beginning to struggle, blinking too rapidly, quick breaths catching in his throat. It's not just the way it feels, Kurt understands, but that it's Sam doing this for Blaine.

"Like this?" Sam asks, and Kurt can't tell what he does exactly, but Blaine's leg jerks.

"Oh, yeah," Blaine whispers and his eyes squeeze shut. A drop of perspiration breaks free of his hairline, tracks down his temple. Precome drips from the blood flushed head of his cock.

Sam asks, "Is that—?"

Emphatic, "Yes, oh, fuck... right there, god. Right fucking... _oh_!"

Sam presses more firmly, Kurt can see his whole arm flex. He works in with his entire bodyweight behind the movement, rocking Blaine against the pillows. Sam's attention is so fixed upon Blaine as he works into him with his fingers—he's so _consumed_ by Blaine already, it's one of the most erotic moments of Kurt's life, simply witnessing this.

"Faster?" Sam asks, growing breathless.

"No," Blaine gasps out. "Just... steady, and... firm."

"Yeah," Sam says, and he fucks Blaine with his hand. And the wet, rhythmic sound of it, it's so much louder, more brazen and obscene, with Sam doing it than it seems when Kurt does it himself. "How do I know when—?" Sam asks.

"I'm ready," Blaine says, "when you're ready."

"Then I'm ready," Sam says with a hint of humor, and he finds the condom resting on the bed nearby. Hastily tears into the wrapper and rolls the condom over his cock. 

Blaine relaxes, lets his legs drop back to the bed, and he opens his eyes. "How do you want to—?" he asks, starting to sit up.

"Can we do it like this?" Sam asks, touches Blaine's shoulder fleetingly. "With you on your back? Like, does that work?"

"It does." Blaine lies back again, pulls his knees up toward his chest, and holds his legs open with his hands cupped behind his knees. He curls his spine. Offers. 

Kurt stops breathing. There's a sharp emotion then, keen and unexpected. Not jealousy to see Blaine so bold and unselfconscious, but pride at how extraordinary and generous he is with a lover, pride that someone else can appreciate it, that it's no longer a secret kept in Kurt's own heart. He can share this with Sam, dear and trusted. Can see the admiration and affection in Sam's gaze, and Kurt understands, in the moment, that this was never going to be simply about Sam taking an opportunity to get off at the wedding.

Kneeling up and splaying his knees out wide, Sam puts his hands on the backs of Blaine's thighs, and there's reverence in his touch too, plain to see in the way his fingers spread and stroke Blaine's skin and his thumbs press into taut muscle. "Right," Sam says, but his tone isn't as certain as the word itself.

So Blaine lets go of himself, reaches down with one hand, helps position Sam's cockhead at his opening. "Go ahead," Blaine says, and he gropes across the mattress for Kurt with his other hand. Kurt reaches back.

Sam nudges forward with his hips, but then, abruptly, tips forward with a startled, "Ah!" as his cock slips down Blaine's cleft instead of pressing into his body. 

"It's okay. Just..." Blaine says, stretching his arm further down to help Sam. "You have to push a little harder."

Sam nods and collects himself, and then he does push harder, and Kurt can see the instant his cock breaches Blaine. Blaine grunts as Sam slides in, and Sam's mouth falls open. "Oh... oh. Oh, wow." he says.

Blaine makes a pleased sound. "That's it," he sighs.

Sam doesn't move for several panting breaths. Just holds himself still and unflinching. "God, that's... _tight_."

"Uh huh," Blaine says and flexes his spine in encouragement. "Just take it easy at first, okay? Not too fast to start." 

"Yeah," says Sam, braces one hand flat on the bed as he leans over Blaine and sinks in deeper. "It feels good?" Sam asks.

" _So_ good," Blaine replies; he wraps his freed leg around Sam's lower back and holds on to Sam's upper arm.

Sam rocks his hips shallowly, working his way in painstakingly slowly. Kurt knows it's got to be the sweetest torture for Blaine, but Blaine takes it without complaint while Sam moves, curiously and cautiously, like he's trying to understand how this new thing he's doing works. Or like he's afraid of hurting Blaine.

"This okay?" Sam asks.

"Mmhm," Blaine says. "I promise, I'm good, Sam."

"You won't break him," Kurt says. "He can take more." Kurt lifts himself from his sprawl and shifts closer beside them. Puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder and glances up at Sam. "If you want to give him more."

Sam spares a glance back at Kurt, and then, with a nod, he pushes in the rest of the way, with a single deep thrust. Sam swears in a way Kurt has never heard before (not even while playing Halo), and Blaine hums in satisfaction—and then, as Sam pulls out only to thrust back in, Blaine bites down on his bottom lip and moans, rocks up to meet Sam. And that makes Sam swear even more vehemently. 

In response, Blaine releases the grip of his teeth and grins. "You like that?" Blaine asks.

Sam nods. "Fucking fuck," he says.

"Yeah, okay, come on and fuck me then," Blaine says, moving out of sync with Sam, trying to draw him into a quicker tempo.

"God, okay," Sam says, works to keep pace with Blaine's impatience. "I thought you said slow at first."

"We're past 'at first'."

Kurt covers his mouth and grins at them.

" _I'm_ not," Sam says, as he grapples with Blaine's leg around his waist, hoisting it up over his elbow and trying to coordinate their bodies better. "Work with me, dude," he says with a lopsided smile.

"Newbie," Blaine says with a flash of a grin back.

Sam falters and smothers a sudden laugh against the inside of Blaine's knee.

"Oh my god," Kurt says, and rolls toward the pillow to muffle his own laughter. He truly expected this to be more awkward, but their banter is delightfully easy. It's unexpectedly compelling to see them laughing together while Sam is inside Blaine for the first time. Grinning, Kurt lifts his head and stretches his neck so he can press a kiss to Blaine's flushed cheek while he slips his hand down to rest it upon Blaine's tense belly. 

Blaine relaxes a little bit, and lets Sam get his bearings. Kurt reaches down further for Blaine's cock, curls his fingers around loosely, and kisses below Blaine's jaw. "There's no hurry, baby," Kurt chides warmly, smiling against his sweat damp throat. "You've waited this long, let Sam do it his way."

Beneath his lips, Kurt feels Blaine swallow. Can feel, too, the impact of each of Sam's thrusts, shifting Blaine's entire body against the mattress, making his cock bounce within the cage of Kurt's fingers. "Yeah, yes," Blaine says, tangling a hand into Kurt's hair and holding his lips against his skin. "Kurt."

Kurt angles his head so he can look up at Sam, and it's an impressive view from the pillow beside Blaine, of Sam, in motion, his mouth slack, his forehead furrowed, his skin flushed and gleaming with exertion.

Sam straightens, adjusting his hold on Blaine to his hips, lifting him up to meet every shove in as Sam measures out a quick, even rhythm. The change of angle makes Blaine arch and cry out loudly. Kurt releases Blaine's cock, slides his open palm up to feel the rapid thud of Blaine's heartbeat behind his breastbone.

"Oh, Jesus," Blaine mutters and then he moans long and low, grinds his ass up to meet Sam. Let's go of Kurt's hair to reach for his own dick, but Kurt catches his hand in his own. Holds it still against Blaine's solar plexus. "Not yet," Kurt murmurs, and he sucks a soft kiss against Blaine's neck.

"Are you...?" Sam grits out between heaving breaths. "Going to come?"

"I'm getting close, yeah," Blaine says, tight twists of his hips to match every thrust. "If you keep that up."

At that, Sam slows down, and with a pained sound, pulls out. "Fuck," Sam says.

Blinking in surprise, Kurt lifts up to his elbow, raises his head. Blaine trembles beside him, gasping for air. His hips buck within Sam's hold, seeking the contact that's been lost. He lets out a frustrated groan.

Sam is trembling as much as Blaine when he looks to Kurt. "Like this?"

And, _oh_ , Sam was definitely listening earlier. Kurt threads his fingers into Blaine's hair and tugs his head back so he can get a better look at Blaine's pleasure etched expression. Blearily, Blaine opens his eyes to look up at Kurt.

"Yes," Kurt says, smiling down at Blaine. "Like that."

Blaine sighs and relaxes. "Okay," he says dazedly.

So Sam pushes back in. Fucks Blaine until he's close again, crying out with desperate entreaty, and Kurt's holding on to both his hands, pulling Blaine's arms up over his head. Giving him an anchor. Then Sam slows again and stops, but he doesn't pull out, just stops and holds Blaine fast against him. Kurt can see it's harder for Sam this time. He's struggling too, almost as much as Blaine. Blaine's fingers are fiercely tight around Kurt's.

"So close," Blaine murmurs softly without opening his eyes, but he soon goes limp in Sam's grasp.

Upon Blaine's hips, Sam's fingers flex and press in. He breathes harshly through gritted teeth.

"Turn him over," Kurt suggests. "Hands and knees, he'll last longer that way, and you won't have to."

"Okay?" Sam asks Blaine, and Blaine nods. Kurt eases his hands from Blaine's grasp and helps coax Blaine to turn over and lift up to all fours, while Sam gets behind him, one hand on Blaine's ass as he positions his cock. As he pushes back in, he stares down at Blaine's body with a hot and eager gaze. Kurt has a good view of Blaine's face, fluttering eyelashes and twisted lips, as Sam drives back in, picking up the pace immediately to fuck him steadily, and Blaine's sweating and panting as he rocks back and moaning—soon nearly growling through his clenched teeth. It's clear he wants more than he's getting, but Kurt knows it takes a hand on his cock for Blaine to come while he's on his hands and knees, and Blaine's not going to touch himself without permission.

"Fuck him harder," Kurt says and he pets through Blaine's hair. His own cock is pulsing heavily between his legs, and he could give it to Blaine to suck, but he's enjoying watching this without being distracted by his own pleasure. He offers Blaine his fingers instead, rubs at Blaine's swollen bottom lip with his fingertips until Blaine parts his lips and sucks Kurt's middle three fingers into the velvet heat of his mouth.

Blaine lifts his glassy gaze to Kurt's as Sam shoves in harder, suckles and groans around Kurt's fingers, and sways with each forceful impact of Sam's hips and cock.

"I'm— Oh, god," Sam says, gasps. "I can't... I have to come, Kurt."

Kurt tears his attention from Blaine's face and looks up to Sam, sees how his whole face is flushed red and his hair is hanging in dark, damp stripes across his forehead, dripping sweat. And it's like Sam's not only informing him, but also asking him if he may—that's mindnumbingly hot and entirely unexpected. "Of course," Kurt says when he finds his voice.

With a great, ragged exhalation, Sam comes in Blaine's ass with stuttering, jerky trusts, bowing his head, and squeezing hard at Blaine's hips.

Kurt slides his fingers from Blaine's slackening lips and bends down to kiss Blaine's gasping mouth. "Please," Blaine whispers between kisses. "I'm so close, Kurt." He whimpers miserably as Sam pulls out one final time.

Blaine crawls forward into Kurt's arms, breathing heavily against Kurt's neck; the wet tip of his cock presses against Kurt's hip. But now Sam seems uncertain. He kneels beside them and rubs haltingly up and down Blaine's back as his own breathing slows. Kurt gives Sam a reassuring smile. "That was really... wow," Sam says.

"Guys," Blaine mumbles in soft complaint, but it's not without affection.

"It's okay," Sam says. "We're going to take care of you," Sam says to Blaine, but appends a "right?" directed at Kurt.

"We are, yes," Kurt says. 

Sam, gestures at the condom on his dick and says, "Let me take care of this, first. I'll just..." He jerks his thumb toward the wastebasket by the dresser.

"Sure," Kurt says. He watches Sam get off the bed to deal with the condom. Sam's so easy in his skin, like all the time and care he takes with it has given him a more profound integration with his own physicality. Kurt admires the sculpted lines of his body lit by the mild glow of lamplight: the sinuous shallow curve of his spine as he stands and the breadth of his shoulders; his high muscular buttocks and the long defined muscles of his thighs, the graceful slope of his neck and the strong taper of his waist; and Kurt strokes down the sweaty line of Blaine's spine between his shoulder blades with a heart full of gratitude.

"Kurt," Blaine says.

"What do you want?" he asks quietly, his lips close to Blaine's ear so it's private between them. "What's happening now?" It's a little play at their old fantasy sessions.

Blaine lifts his head. "You know this one," Blaine says, with a weak quirk of his lips, but sharp intention in his gaze. Kurt doesn't have to think for long to recall the knowledge.

"That's true," Kurt says, smiling. "I do." He gets another condom from the box. the bottle of lube, and then he rearranges more pillows behind himself so he can recline more comfortably against the headboard. "Turn around, honey," he tells Blaine, "Straddle my lap."

And Sam comes back to the bed, alert and focused on Blaine.

Kurt unrolls the condom over his cock as Blaine turns and spreads his thighs over Kurt's hips. Then, there's lube on his cock and more for Blaine. He braces one hand on Blaine's lower back, and his fingers sink into Blaine gloriously easily, he's so well stretched and relaxed. "Mmm, so ready for me," Kurt says. He pushes three fingers in as far as possible and Blaine presses back eagerly to meet him. So Kurt pulls back and tucks his pinky in, pushes in until Blaine's stretched wide and tight around his knuckles and a profound shudder ripples up his spine. Inside, Blaine's muscles tremble around him, and Kurt just holds him like that for a few heartbeats, then he pulls out slowly, wipes his hand off, and guides Blaine back to line him up with Kurt's cock. 

Sam walks on his knees until his legs are bumping between Kurt's and he's in front of Blaine, petting his shoulders as Blaine presses down to take Kurt's cock in. Blaine's head tips back and he sighs. Sam leans in to press his mouth to the exposed arch of Blaine's throat.

Kurt enjoys the view of Blaine taking his cock as Blaine sinks all the way down with a pleased shiver. And Kurt's cock is clasped snug within the smooth hot sheath of Blaine's body. Kurt grasps Blaine's hips and holds him still, stuffed full and immobile. Kurt forces himself to relax and breathe evenly, asks, "Better?"

Blaine hums in affirmation and clenches as strongly he can around Kurt, which forces a soft grunt from Kurt.

"What do you want me to do?" Sam asks. His hands slide down Blaine's arms to his elbows. It's hard to tell whom Sam's asking, but Kurt loves how eager to please Sam is, even after his own orgasm.

Kurt bends and spreads his legs between Blaine's, pushing Blaine's legs out more widely, showing him off to Sam. "We’re both here for you, Blaine," Kurt says. "What do you want?"

"Sam," Blaine says.

"I'm right here."

Blaine whimpers and pants and tries to move against Kurt. Beneath Kurt's hands, Blaine's body is hot like midsummer sun. Sam's palms move up and down his arms, trying to soothe as Sam waits for an answer; and Kurt wants Blaine to be the one to tell Sam.

"Just... want to come," Blaine mumbles. "So bad." Kurt pulls at his hips, shifts him back and forth, moves his hands up to Blaine's waist, but keeps his hold firm. "Oh... Sam," Blaine says. "In your mouth, please."

"You want to come in my mouth?" Sam asks.

"Yes," Blaine hisses, grinding his ass back against Kurt with what leeway for movement Kurt's given him. "Please?" Blaine begs so sweetly.

Sam doesn't say anything more, just takes Blaine's face between his hands and kisses him once, deeply, and then he lowers himself down, bends near, and puts his mouth on Blaine's cock.

"Oh... Jesus," Blaine swears, and squirms in Kurt's hold, trying to fuck himself back onto Kurt's cock or deeper into Sam's mouth—or both at once. "God, that's... so good, so good, so... oh, _god_."

Blaine reaches for a handful of Sam's hair, reaches back for Kurt's forearm with his other hand, works his hips between them. "Fuck... more, please, oh my god."

Sam sucks and slides, manages a more even rhythm this time, meets and takes each of Blaine's restless, shallow thrusts. Kurt just hangs on, lets Blaine ride his cock however he likes, supports Blaine's weight as Blaine arches back. Lets him take what he wants. "You're so good, baby," he murmurs. "Come whenever you're ready."

Blaine moans are pitching higher, alternating between straining whines and soft, full-throated cries. The sounds tumbling from his lips are nonsensical jumble of Kurt's name, Sam's name, appeals to various things holy, and emphatic declarations of his enjoyment.

Kurt's burning up again, with Blaine sweating and writhing in his lap like this, the silken hot grip of his ass so perfect around his cock, his whole being giving in so gorgeously to pleasure, and Sam's mouth moves with determined wet sounds on Blaine's cock. 

"Come on, Blaine," Kurt urges, not wishing to test Sam's endurance at sucking cock too much, not when it's still such a new thing for him. "Come for us, honey."

"Yeah, just..." Blaine works himself around Kurt, lifting up and dropping back down to get Kurt right where Blaine wants him. Sam holds on, lets Blaine fuck into his mouth with each rolling drive of his hips. Until Blaine freezes and arches hard against Kurt, holds Sam fast against him. Blaine shudders deeply, groans desperately, and comes ecstatically. Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth falls open with a soundless gasp, as Blaine pulses and squeezes tight around him, but it's not quite enough for Kurt to come.

Blaine lifts off Kurt, and Kurt sits up to help him lie down. Blaine gives him a groggy, grateful smile; and so, satisfied that Blaine is well contented, Kurt ignores the dull needy ache in his balls and turns his attention to Sam. 

A splatter of semen glistens upon Sam's cheek and chin, and his lips are puffy and slick. His expression is one of mild shock, and Kurt can empathize. The first time Blaine came in his mouth was an even more profoundly intimate experience than fucking Blaine for the first time. For a boy like Sam, Kurt wonders how enlightening it may have been too.

"Hey," he says gently, and reaches for Sam. Kurt cups his jaw and swipes his thumb over a smear of Blaine's come. "Are you okay?"

Sam nods and blinks, and his tongue comes out to lick across his bottom lip and glances against the pad of Kurt's thumb. Kurt tamps down the sharp spike of desire that pierces his belly, concentrates on Sam, who, Kurt notices, has grown semi hard again. His cock is thick against his thigh.

It doesn't seem like Sam wants to talk though, so Kurt leans in and kisses him, soft and chaste on his mouth, and then with parted lips and a careful tongue where semen still marks his face. Sam's hands come up to splay across the back of Kurt's ribs as Kurt kisses away the traces of Blaine's orgasm from Sam's skin.

With a faint and hungry whimper, Sam turns his mouth back to Kurt's, all open lips and eager tongue. Kurt lets him in, draws him in closer with his hand upon Sam's cheek. There's an unspoken demand in Sam's kiss. Kurt withdraws and asks him, "What is it?"

Sam blinks sluggishly. "I want..." he says.

"What—?" Kurt has to stop an endearment slipping out. "What do you want, Sam?"

A quick flash of a grin. "I'm not sure, I just..." He reaches for Kurt again, pulls him into an even hotter, more thorough kiss. The sort that makes Kurt's knees weaken and his heartbeat sink, pounding strong and low. And the lingering taste of Blaine upon Sam's tongue is a heady reminder of what they're sharing. But the notion that Sam wants him too, and not only Blaine, won't quite crystallize into a full realization. The evidence is there, but Kurt still reels at the possibility.

Then Blaine's hand slips warm up Kurt's calf and squeezes. "Come down here with me," he says.

So when they pull apart to breathe, Kurt asks Sam, "Think you could come again for us?"

"Yeah," Sam replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (there will be another part!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken me nearly all year to get this last chapter done for you all. It's been a bit of an end of year crunch writing-wise, and this last part I may've up rushed the writing a bit more than is my ideal, but I wanted to get it done for you all before 2015. I hope, despite the rush, you enjoy it! I may come back and do some revisions at some later point. Thank you for reading.

Kurt needs a minute. He also still has an empty, but used condom clinging to his dick. Sam settles down beside Blaine, Blaine, wrung out, rolls near, nuzzles clumsily at Sam's chest, and says, "Thank you." Kurt takes a moment to look at them, tries to understand the specific nature of the pang in his heart as he does—it's warm and good, but more than what he's expected, sharper maybe—before he excuses himself to the bathroom.

The door snaps shut behind Kurt and the fluorescent bar of light over the sink stutters and pops as it comes on. It hums to itself as Kurt washes his hands in the dull faux-marble sink. He disposes of the condom, grabs a washcloth to clean any lingering taste of latex from himself, and then washes his hands again. 

So, Sam wants something, but he doesn't know what. Kurt's unsure if that means Sam doesn't know, or whether it means Sam is nervous about articulating a desire and wants them to push him a little bit. Kurt doesn't even know if that's how Sam works. Until today, they'd never talked about sex much with each other, not the details of it anyway.

But when they'd talked by the bar, Kurt had flat out asked him, "How do you feel about anal?" It wasn't something to be coy about, nor something about which Kurt wanted to guess.

"Doing or being done?" Sam had countered, without any overt sign of especial perturbation.

That made Kurt laugh in happy surprise. "Both? Either?"

"I'd like to do, definitely. You know, if that's on the table, with one of you guys."

Kurt had blinked and flushed warm. "Okay, uh, probably," he said. "Me or Blaine?"

"Oh," Sam had looked down with raised eyebrows and reddened cheeks. "Wow, um."

"Blaine?" Kurt guessed.

Sam looked up with something new bared in his gaze, a nervous kind of anticipation. "Yeah. If he wanted that and you were cool with it and--"

"I am," Kurt said, swallowing down the rapid beat of his own heart, "definitely cool with that." He didn't tell Sam that Blaine would almost certainly want that. Blaine could speak for himself if it came to it. "And... being done?"

Sam tilted his head and wrinkled his nose. "That? I don't know."

"So you've never...?" Kurt asked.

Sam shook his head. "I've never been with a guy before."

"Well, that doesn't mean-- I didn't want to assume. But not even solo?"

"Not really?"

"That's fine," Kurt said quickly, didn't let himself wonder about what may be included within the possible boundaries of 'not really'. "No pressure, okay? If you're not interested. I just wanted to be clear about what you wanted from this experience."

(This experience? How had he managed to sound so clinical about it?)

Turns out it wasn't as clear as he'd thought at the time. He had jumped to the assumption that Sam's 'I don't know' (with accompanying facial expression of reservation) meant, basically, a polite 'no'. Maybe it actually meant he's curious but uncertain. Perhaps he wishes to be persuaded, or just given more information with which to make a decision. Nerves are reasonable; Kurt understands that. He doubts it matters who you are, taking a dick in your ass requires trust and comfort, especially for the first time. But he still doesn't want to assume, and he doesn't like that he already may've. 

(Which brings to mind, unfortunately enough, his father telling him as a child, "Never assume, it makes an ass out of you and me." And Kurt can't not smile at that, since tonight there is literal ass involved.)

There's a soft rap on the door. "Kurt?" comes Blaine's voice, "May I come in?"

Kurt reaches over and opens the door, and Blaine slips inside. "Hey," he says. "I just wanted to wash up a little, too, before round... What is it? Two or three?"

"Two and two-thirds?" Kurt steps back and leans against the shower door, lets his gaze roam between Blaine and Blaine's reflection in the mirror.

Blaine laughs and reaches for a fresh washcloth, runs the water until it's warm.

Kurt watches Blaine sweep the cloth over his chest and belly; he entertains, briefly, the idea of bending Blaine over the sink. He'll still be relaxed and slick enough, and Kurt is still hard and wanting. It'd be so easy to just sink inside. Kurt closes his eyes as the pulse of blood in his cock strengthens. He folds his arms across his chest and leaves off the fantasy; they still have a guest and other fantasies to fulfill. Sam may want him. Kurt opens his eyes and asks Blaine, "You're doing all right?"

"I am." Blaine's smile tells Kurt everything he needs to know.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, he's great," Blaine says. "You?"

"Mmm, I'm fine," Kurt says. "A little hungry, actually. Might order a pizza after."

"Post-sex pizza is the best pizza."

Kurt smiles and steps forward, reaches to touch Blaine's shoulder, meets his eyes in the mirror. "Do you think Sam wants, um, one of us to..." Kurt lets out his anxiety in a heavy breath.

"Fuck him?" Blaine asks.

"Yes," Kurt says. "He wasn't clear on that with me earlier. I assumed he didn't but--"

"He might," Blaine says. "He's not averse to the idea, anyway. I think he's curious."

"That's not the same as wanting it. And you don't know for sure? You never talked about that kind of thing with him? Along with the tearful memories of my elite blowjob skills or....?" 

With a laugh, Blaine shrugs. "We've talked about it, but more in the abstract? He asked me once if it's good on the receiving end, and I told him I liked it. He wasn't weird about it—even said he was glad, because he didn't like the thought of whoever was taking it not enjoying himself, but he never specifically said he wanted to try it."

"Okay." Kurt blows his next breath up at his bangs. "Well, this is awkward."

They're quiet for a moment. "Do you want to?" Blaine asks. "Fuck him?"

"Don't you?"

Blaine turns, pulls Kurt against him and lifts a drooping lock of hair from Kurt's forehead with his fingertip. "I'm feeling so spoiled tonight," Blaine says, low and soft. "Like I'm getting everything I want."

There's an unspoken tail to the thought, so Kurt prompts, "And?"

"And," Blaine drawls the syllable into seduction, deep and dark in his gaze, and vivid in the brush of his lips against Kurt's cheek "If I'm going to get everything I want tonight," Blaine murmurs near Kurt's ear, "then it would be fucking incredible to watch my super hot fiance nail my super hot best friend."

"Oh god, when you put it that way..." Kurt mumbles. Closes his eyes, takes a breath. "Okay, but only if Sam wants it."

"If he wants it," Blaine affirms, and then he pulls back and tilts his head. "And if you're sure you do too."

Kurt swallows. "God, you know what? I really do," he confesses, and he tangles his fingers with Blaine's. "If you're here with me."

"I am." Blaine's smile encourages. "Let's go find out how he feels about it."

#

"Hey," Sam says. He's sprawled in the center of the bed, one leg akimbo, the other stretched out straight; one hand flung above his head upon the pillow, and the other loosely stroking his cock. His hair's a sexy mess, his eyes are open and clear. He looks like an underwear ad, but without the underwear. "Were you talking about me?" he asks with nothing more fraught than eager curiosity and a smile. "Making plans?"

Kurt bites into his smile, answers with a soft hum of affirmation, while Blaine releases Kurt's hand with a squeeze and crawls onto the bed beside Sam. "We were wondering," Blaine begins. He bows his head and presses his mouth to Sam's shoulder, reaches with his hand to push it under the one Sam's got lazily roaming over his cock. "If," Blaine continues, moving toward Sam's neck and giving Sam's cock a slow petting stroke. "You were curious about--"

"Trying out some butt stuff?" Sam interrupts.

With an amused huff, Blaine lifts his head. "Not how I was going to phrase it, but yeah."

"If you're interested. We'll take it slow," Kurt says, sitting down near the foot of the bed. He rests his hand on one of Sam's ankles. "See if you like it?"

Sam considers them both. "You both like it, right?"

"Yes," Kurt says.

"Does it hurt? Like, um, the first time?"

"Uh." Kurt glances at Blaine, to see if he wants to field Sam's question. Blaine shrugs, so Kurt answers. "In theory, it can for some people? But it really shouldn't," Kurt says. "If you take it slow, use enough lube, relax..."

"It didn't hurt for either of us," Blaine says.

"It might not feel, um, totally orgasmic at first, but if you let us, I promise we won't hurt you. You'll feel good. If there's any pain, or you're uncomfortable, or you just don't like it, we'll stop."

Sam frowns thoughtfully. "What was it like? For you guys?"

Kurt looks at Blaine again, hopes he'll answer this one first. Blaine smiles at Kurt and turns back to Sam.

"The way it was for me," Blaine says, "It was like waking up inside. The first time, I really wanted it. I'd done some stuff on my own, and I wanted Kurt to fuck me so badly. It was good just being close like that—trusting him to do it. And the way it feels is, um, it can take a little while to really feel the full force of it? But once you do? It's amazing. There's nothing else that feels that way."

The memory Blaine shares is one Kurt knows well. He hasn't thought about it much recently, their younger days, when everything was so new. He smiles at Blaine and reaches out to touch him.

"Kurt?" Sam asks.

"Oh," Kurt raises his attention, snaps back to Sam. "My first time? It was just really intense. I was pretty nervous, but Blaine took his time warming me up, and I came really hard that way, just from his hand, before he was even fucking me. And then, when he did, it was this kind of... blissed out floating, I guess? It really relaxes me. I kind of get lost in it." The heat of Kurt's blush makes him look down. It's an odd thing to share.

"That sounds nice," Sam says, and there's gratitude in his voice. "You guys make it sound really, uh, special? Not like the way I've seen it in porn. I could tell how much Blaine liked it, so I think... okay?" Sam glances between them, takes a breath, and says with a determined smile, "Let's try it?"

"Okay," Blaine says. "I'm going to let Kurt take care of your ass, but I'm here for you, too."

Kurt gives Sam a reassuring smile. "That all right?"

"Yeah, totally," Sam says, and as he looks at Kurt, Kurt can see it opening up in Sam's gaze, the acceptance and anticipation of what they're offering him—what Sam's offering them both.

"For what it's worth," Kurt says. "I think it is special. Or it can be."

"So, um, how do you want me?" Sam asks.

"Like this is fine to start, but I'll, um..." Kurt reaches up for a pillow. "Lift your hips?"

Sam does, and Kurt tucks it under his pelvis. "And, uh, here" Kurt helps Sam arrange his legs. Spread with bent knees and his feet flat on the mattress.

"I'm kind of feeling overexposed," Sam says with a grin.

"Trust me, you look great from this angle," Kurt says, and he appreciates the view, the hang of Sam's testicles, the shadow of his anus nestled just there. And if Kurt is nervous, he's not going to let it show.

Blaine looks at Kurt and picks up the lube, squirts a little in his hand before passing it down to Kurt. Blaine wraps his slickened palm around Sam's cock. "Push up into my hand a little?" Blaine suggests.

Blaine strokes Sam's cock evenly, and leans in to kiss him. Kurt touches his thighs, running his hands up the inside until he's got one hand cupping and fondling Sam's balls, and he's coaxing one of Sam's legs up off the bed, pushing it further to the side, opening him up more. Watching Sam's face, Blaine slows his hand, squeezing and rolling his fist over the head of Sam's cock. Sam's flushed, his eyes a little wild. Kurt turns his hand and slides the pad of his thumb behind Sam's balls, rubs back along his perineum with firm pressure. Damp with sweat, it's not enough lubricant for much, and when Kurt reaches the edge of Sam's anus, the muscle tightens.

"Okay?" Kurt asks. Pausing there, just a touch.

"Yeah," Sam exhales. But he's tensing up. 

Blaine lets go of Sam's cock, rubs circles with his palm up Sam's torso. Talks to him. Urges him to relax, breathe, close his eyes, just feel what Kurt's doing, don't try to expect or judge or... Just feel it. Kurt knows what he's doing.

Kurt gets the lube, gives Blaine a grateful smile. Sam's brow is still creased.

With slick fingertips, Kurt rubs back down behind his balls and along his perineum. This time he doesn't stop when he gets to the rim of Sam's anus, he keeps going. Nestles the slippery fingertip of his middle finger against the center and rubs, lightly as first, which makes Sam's thighs quiver, and Kurt keeps going, slowly adding pressure, but not speed. Massaging the tightly closed muscle until it begins to soften beneath his touch, and he could press in, but he doesn't yet, just keeps pressing and rubbing against Sam with the pad of his finger. Kurt's getting lightheaded. He watches Sam and Blaine.

Sam's flushed and breathless, starting to move curiously with Kurt's touch. Kurt pushes Sam's thigh further back. Sam makes a surprised sound, tenses up again, but with the way he's looking at Kurt, wide-eyed and breathless, Kurt doesn't stop.

"Hey?" Blaine asks Sam. "Good?"

"Yeah, it feels nice," Sam whispers, and slowly, he relaxes again.

"I'd like to give you more," Kurt says. "Do you want more?"

"I... okay," Sam says. "Please."

The please thrills Kurt, but he ignores his own cock, heavy and eager between his legs. He's taking care of Sam. "Okay, I'm going to go inside," Kurt says.

While Kurt freshens up the lubricant, Blaine explains how Sam should push out a little, to open himself up for Kurt.

Sam grunts softly deep in his throat when Kurt presses in. His body pinches so tightly around Kurt's fingertip it goes a little numb. Blaine murmurs encouragement and instruction to Sam in a low soothing voice. Sam nods and breathes, and then, loosens enough around Kurt's fingertip that Kurt can reach farther in. He does, and then keeps his hand still, petting Sam's thigh with his free hand and waiting for Sam to get used to the feeling. The hot flex around his finger is so tight. Kurt slides his free hand up and down the back of Sam's thigh. "Still okay?" Kurt asks.

"Feels weird," Sam says, with a huff of self-conscious laughter.

"It'll get better," Blaine says. He and Kurt share a look. Blaine reaches back down for Sam's cock, and Kurt gives Sam some friction. 

They find a sedate rhythm for it, Blaine's hand around Sam's dick and Kurt dragging his finger in and out of Sam's ass, just an easy inch worth of movement. Sam blinks and then gasps in surprise. His eyes squeeze shut and his head flops back against his pillow. "Oh," he says, moving with them both a little now. "That feels... oh, okay." 

"Feeling better?" Kurt asks.

"Yeah," Sam says shakily. "Just do it, Kurt," Sam says.

"This isn't a Nike ad, Sam," Kurt replies.

"Ha," Sam laughs. "You can do it, though. You can fuck me. If it feels like this... I want you to."

"I will," Kurt says. "When you're ready."

Blaine tosses Kurt the condoms, and then sits up to lean over Sam to Kurt, kisses Kurt slow and deep. With Blaine's tongue in his mouth, Kurt withdraws his hand from Sam's ass, just far enough to tuck his index finger in next to his middle finger. Then he pushes back into Sam, deeper, adds more force and speed. 

"Come on, oh fuck," Sam says, and he groans, arching against the bed a little. "I just..."

Blaine grins against Kurt's mouth and withdraws, returns his attention to Sam.

Kurt reaches farther and curls his fingertips up, finds the swelling bump of Sam's prostate, presses rhythmically against it with a gentle curl of his finger. Blaine settles comfortably back beside Sam, one hand on his dick, the other on the pillow, petting into Sam's hair. He kisses Sam's cheek, jaw, and neck while he talks to him. Kurt applies more pressure, steady and sure.

"Ooooh my god," Sam says. Kurt squeezes his thigh, and Blaine's sucking his collarbone while he jerks Sam slowly. Kurt keeps playing with his prostate, watches the clear fluid bead and drip from the end of Sam's cock, until Sam's restless and panting and asking, "More? Guys."

"Ready for my cock?" Kurt asks, trying to speak around his heartbeat, which is lodged upon the back of his tongue.

Sam groans and nods. "Anything, Kurt."

Kurt pulls his hand out, rolls the condom on, and slicks himself up. Checks in again with Sam—who's very keen--and Blaine again, who's calm and bright-eyed. And he checks with himself again, that he's willing to commit to this and whatever may come after. It's surreal, being poised on the verge of giving Sam this experience. He and Blaine have talked about it, sure, but the collision of imagination and reality, of shared private fantasies and their subject—who is so willing and so turned on, and saying Kurt's name so needfully.

"Keep breathing," Blaine says. And Kurt not sure if Blaine's talking to him or Sam. He keeps breathing.

Kurt pushes in so slowly, biting his lip as his eyes roll back. Sam gasps and sighs and keeps still. Kurt rocks his hips as he edges forward, taking care not to push in too fast, to let Sam relax into every moment of penetration. And, fuck, Sam's so good taking it. Kurt sinks, millimeter by millimeter into the choking tight grasp and gorgeous slick heat of Sam's body. Kurt pulls back a fraction, and then pushes back in farther, taking Sam in small increments, until Kurt's seated as deep as he can be. He keeps moving, short strokes, concentrating on Sam more than his own experience.

"Okay?" he asks, his voice high and faint.

"Yeah," Sam says. "I'm okay."

"You feel really good," Kurt says, plying Sam so gently while ignoring the ache of his balls to go harder. He wants this to be amazing for Sam. 

"Feeling a little weird again," Sam says. "But it's okay."

Which makes Kurt chuckle airlessly, "Think you handle a bit more speed?"

"Try me," Sam says.

Kurt adjusts his hold on Sam, lifting both his legs, holding behind his knees keeping them wide apart. Kurt tucks his tailbone neatly, quick easy thrusts, without too much force behind them. He can keep this up for as long as Sam's happy with it.

Sam swears, and rolls his head upon the pillow. His mouth goes slack around a long, low cry. Blaine kisses him on the mouth, catches the sound, drowns Sam's moans into whimpers. Sam's brow is furrowed in some confused shock of pleasure. Blaine strokes his dick faster too, a little roughly, and Sam tears his mouth away from Blaine.

"Oh my god," he says. "Oh my god."

And then Blaine's letting go of Sam and reaching for the condoms, and Kurt's not sure what he's got planned until he rips it open and unrolls it over Sam's cock.

"Jesus, Blaine," Kurt says, when Blaine carefully straddles Sam, and slicks them both up.

"Hell, yeah," Sam says, and Blaine laughs. Then he holds Sam's cock and sinks down on it. Kurt can only push deep, hold still, and stare at Sam's cock sliding into Blaine's body with so little resistance. He drags his grasp from to Sam's knees to his ankles, and Blaine reaches forward to brace himself on the headboard.

It's awkward at first, coordinating three bodies, and Kurt's not confident Blaine's going to come again. Kurt slows and tries to match his thrusts to each movement Blaine makes, pulling out when Blaine drops down, pushing in when Blaine lifts up. Kurt's holding Sam's legs up and apart. Sam's hands are around Blaine's waist. Blaine's spine flexes gorgeously, and the jounce of his ass is glorious to behold from this angle. Especially while Kurt's cock is so greedily buried in Sam's ass. 

This is usually when Kurt would wake up. But he doesn't. Just firms his grip and bends his will to keeping the roll of his hips steady.

Sam's reduced to an insensible stream of variations on 'fuck, fuck, oh fuck, oh my fucking fuck.' Kurt's not managing much more eloquence than that.

Kurt lets go of one of Sam's legs to run a hand up Blaine's spine to his shoulder. "You okay?" he manages, because Blaine's taken a lot. Blaine half turns his face, slips Kurt a hazy look and a bitten smile in response. Kurt lets Blaine set the pace after that, faster to chase Sam's encouragement, and Kurt keeps up.

It can't last forever, there's no way. Not even when they find the perfect rhythm of give and take among their bodies.

Kurt comes first, sweet and irresistible, but he keeps fucking Sam as long as he can. Grits his teeth and fucks in harder, faster, to match Blaine, and to keep pitching Sam's cries higher. From what Kurt can make out, Sam's close, his fingers are white-tipped, digging into Blaine's ass, holding him open, and he's pushing up to meet Blaine while rocking himself back down on Kurt's cock.

"Come on, Sam," Blaine says, and grinds down hard.

Sam's, apparently, a very obedient boy, for he thrusts up into Blaine one last time, and comes hard enough he pulls off Kurt entirely. 

Sam flops back to the bed limply, and Kurt slumps to the side, sprawls cross-wise along the foot of the bed. Blaine gingerly climbs off Sam, and Kurt doesn't miss his wince. He reaches out and pets Blaine's ankle, meets his eyes with a moue of concern. Blaine gives him a weary grin that lets Kurt know he's okay.

"That was, like, way better than any porn ever," Sam says, far too loudly and energetically into the quiet space of their immediate aftermath. Kurt covers his mouth and laughs.

Blaine chuckles and presses his grin against Sam's shoulder.

It takes Kurt a moment to rally his muscles, but once he has, Kurt pushes himself up, crawls up the bed, and spoons up behind Blaine, reaches across Blaine's waist to lay his hand upon Sam's belly. Blaine pulls the pillow from under Sam's ass, while Kurt kicks at the sheets until he's loosened them enough to pull the edge of them up over their feet. Yawns.

They lie together in companionable silence, and Blaine drifts off, his head pillowed against Sam's shoulder.

They're going to chill as the warmth of sex abates and the hotel air conditioning takes over. Kurt rolls away from Blaine gingerly, and Sam watches him reach over the end of the bed to find the blanket that slid off to the floor god knows when. "Do you want to stay the rest of the night with us?" Kurt asks Sam quietly. "We can find some food, go again, or just sleep."

Sam looks at him, and there's an openness in his gaze Kurt's never seen before, like he's looking into Sam not just at him. And what Kurt sees is warm and wonderful and perfectly content, here with him and Blaine. And the sight of Blaine, tenderly held and dozing in Sam's arms, is almost unbearably sweet. "You wouldn't mind?" Sam asks.

Kurt laughs softly. "We more than wouldn't mind, Sam. We'd love you to stay."

Sam agrees. "Okay. You said something about food?"

Kurt reaches for the phone and orders delivery pizza. Blaine wakes from his nap, stumbles to the bathroom for a quick shower while they wait for it to arrive. After, Blaine takes one of the hotel robes, Sam the other, and Kurt slips his pajama pants and a t-shirt on while they lay out the food on the bed on a towel.

It's more comfortable than Kurt expected, lying together in the extended afterglow. He ends up with Sam's head pillowed on his thigh, Blaine's propped himself up on his side, and his legs are tangled with Sam's.

One thing they didn't talk about was after. Kurt trusted their friendships to get them through but he didn't anticipate how the shape of that would actually look. Sam grows quiet as they eat.

But after they finish and clean up, a tension infiltrates the ease. It's Blaine who speaks up first, after noticing Sam's continuing silence. "Hey," he says. "What's up? Are you okay?" Kurt's by the window, trying to work out if it opens. He doesn't want all of their clothes marinating in the smell of sex and pizza.

Sam nods immediately but his lips flatten together as if he's trying to put words to something difficult. 

"Regrets?" Kurt asks, and he finds the latch. The window doesn't open far, but the fresh air that trickles in is immediately refreshing. Kurt leaves the curtains parted a few inches, and flicks off the nearest bedside lamp.

"No, absolutely not," Sam says, draws it out like maybe he's querying himself. "But I--" he breaks off with a frown.

"Hey, whatever it is, you can tell us. There's no judgment here tonight, okay?" Blaine says.

Sam's smile comes quickly. "I really enjoyed this. I am enjoying this," Sam says. "I guess I'm kind of wondering if maybe this won't be a one time thing."

"Oh, right, well..." Kurt says and he looks at Blaine to see how he's reacting.

"Not that I'm like, wanting to turn up on your doorstep in New York with my suitcase ready to move in. I know that's not how this goes." Sam fidgets with the tie of his robe. "But I was kind of wondering if, uh, maybe? If I'm not otherwise committed and we're all in the same place, that maybe this could be something we do."

It's not what Kurt expected. Blaine's eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Which is a lot to dump on you guys, so I'm just going to go have a shower so you can talk or whatever."

"Yeah," Blaine says. "Okay."

Sam pauses on his way to the bathroom, turns back to them. "God, I hope I didn't just make this super weird."

Kurt gets up and smiles to reassure. "You haven't," he says, and he finds the pajamas he set aside for Sam earlier. "Here," Kurt says; he passes them to Sam. "You can wear these after your shower."

Sam takes the pajamas, touches the monogram on the pocket, and gives Kurt a relieved nod.

Then Kurt goes back to the bed so he and Blaine can talk.

"You've got that face," Blaine says.

"What face?"

"The one-- Actually, I don't think I know this face. This is a new face."

Kurt laughs. "This is the face for having just had my first threesome with my fiance and one of our closest, once assumed straight friends, who has now mooted that we make it a... thing we do again."

"Mooted? I don't think Sam's a guy who moots."

Kurt grins, but his question is serious. "Is that something you'd be interested in?" he asks, reaching across the space between them to slide his fingertip over the titanium band on Blaine's left hand.

"I've loved tonight," Blaine says.

"I loved it too," Kurt says, and he can't stop his delighted laughter. "Oh my god, Blaine. Can you believe we just--? It was... wow. Pretty great, right?"

"It was," Blaine says. "So, yeah, if you wanted to, I think that could be... nice with Sam."

"Nice," Kurt repeats with a smile at the simplicity of Blaine's understatement. He's pretty sure it'll be so much more than nice, and he's also sure it'll be more complicated than simple, But that doesn't mean it's not worth seeing where this may take them all. "Yes, it definitely could be."

_Some months later_

The summer city stench is thick in the still air. Kurt stands on the sidewalk outside the gallery. He stares at his cellphone while his sunglasses slowly creep down the bridge of his nose. The GPS tracker shows Sam's close, just about to turn up the street.

Blaine's at an audition, so is regretfully missing meeting Sam until later tonight. Kurt looks up, spies the U-Haul, and pockets his phone. 

Sam pulls into the loading area and Kurt's heart is already in his throat. It's the first time they've been together since the wedding hook up. Kurt watches him get out and walk around the front of the truck. He looks gorgeous in his thigh-hugging jeans and too-small t-shirt. He's had a hair cut recently, that's put an end to the blond highlights. The short brown hair suits him. It's too hot for hugging, but Kurt opens his arms for Sam, who grabs him tightly. "Hey," Sam says.

"Hi," Kurt says and steps back when Sam releases him. "It's great to see you," he says.

"You too," Sam says and his smile is enough to make Kurt flush even hotter than the day's already made him.

"Um, so..." Kurt says as they head to the back of the truck. "How was the drive?"

Sam shrugs, "Too hot and slow. Summer traffic." He bends to unlock the truck and rolls the door up. It's loaded with the best of the past four years of Sam's mosaic art, all carefully wrapped in bubble wrap and padded blankets. A few months ago, Kurt showed Isabelle some of Sam's work, and she was impressed enough, it's ended up with Sam having a gallery showing in the city. 

"Let's earn that dinner Blaine's promised us," Kurt says. And they start unloading the truck.

#

They go to the loft after to shower and change. Kurt has a text from Blaine saying he's finished early, the audition went all right, and he wants to know if he should he come back to the loft or do they want to meet at the restaurant early for drinks? Kurt suggests meeting early for drinks. Something cold and alcoholic sounds like a perfect next step for the day.

Sam uses the shower first, comes out with his towel slung low around his hips, and it's only awkward for a moment. It helps that Sam likes being looked at. Kurt touches his bare skin lightly as Sam leans in to kiss him, just once, chastely, on the lips. They've agreed to wait until all of three of them are together for anything more than this. The anticipation is wonderful foreplay.

Kurt dresses in his lightest white trousers and leaves the collar of his short sleeved cyanotype print shirt open, doesn't even contemplate adding a scarf or tie. Sam looks great in slim dark wash jeans and a gray linen shirt. Kurt's helped him put together a New York wardrobe over Skype these past few weeks.

Blaine's waiting for them at the bar in the restaurant. He's freshened up and changed too, probably at his gym. He shines in his red polo. He gets up to hug Sam and kiss his cheek. They find a table near the window and order champagne for a toast in advance of Sam's show tomorrow night. Then they have a leisurely dinner, catch up on each others' news. 

Kurt's got Fashion week in September coming up, so has been flat out with Vogue work. Blaine's been auditioning for everything, and he has a good feeling about the one today. A smaller, off Broadway play. Not a musical, unfortunately but Blaine likes the play and he knows the director. They still haven't set a wedding date, but they're thinking any season not summer.

Sam's not dating anyone currently, though he's been out with a few girls and one guy. He says he's expanding his options now, but hasn't met anyone with whom he feels a future is possible. Mostly, he says, he's been working a lot. He's had a lot of fresh inspiration, has been learning stained glass, too. Trying to keep up with his muse has meant dating has dropped on his priority list. "Anyway," he says, "Knowing I was coming to the city and I'd be seeing you guys has been motivational."

They don't get back to the loft until late. "We got a new bed," Kurt says after the door rolls closed behind them. He begins to slip the buttons of his shirt undone. "King-sized."

"Oh," Sam says, and his smile is slow and pleased.

Blaine reaches for Sam's hand, and tugs him toward the open curtain. "Come on." Sam goes, and Kurt follows. Sam's here for the whole week. It's going to be so nice.

 

**the end**


End file.
